


Crossing Over

by pl2363



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Death of Loved One, Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Parallel Universes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Suicide Attempt, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: A few years after the matrix is used to heal the hate plague, Optimus and Jazz struggle with their personal issues. Perceptor, ever the scientist, accidentally connects to a parallel universe and everything is turned upside down for those involved.
Relationships: First Aid/Soundwave, Ironhide/Optimus Prime, Ironhide/Prowl, Jazz/Optimus Prime, Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 51
Kudos: 58





	1. Day to day

**Author's Note:**

> I’m hesitant to post because this is a totally self indulgent fic I’ve mostly been writing for myself. It’s weird pairings and I’m out of practice writing. If you enjoy let me know... It’ll keep me working on this to hopefully finish.

An ordinary day

“There has been no activity from the Deceptions in the last three months,” Ultra Magnus reported from Cybertron. His visage occupied one half of a large screen split between himself and Bumblebee. “We continue to sweep the planet in search of them, but it appears they’ve left.”

Optimus nodded, then looked to the other half of the screen where Bumblebee sat patiently waiting. “Any activity to report from the moon?”

“Everything is under control here. Got Danny and Hot Rod visiting for the next couple weeks,” Bumblebee replied, smiling.

“In other words, you got yer hands full?” Jazz said, smiling from across the conference table. 

Bumblebee chuckled. “Carly won’t let them get away with too much, but yeah.”

“First Aid?” Optimus said, turning his attention to the CMO sitting beside him at the table. “How are maintenance checks on the crew going?”

“Well. I’m about halfway through the Earth crew here,” First Aid replied. “So far, no major issues.”

Optimus nodded, glad to hear it. He then looked to Perceptor. The scientist had his face buried in a datapad. “Do you have anything you’d like to report?”

Perceptor looked up. “I have been experimenting with space bridge technology and different wave frequencies. By varying them and entering coordinates I’ve discovered some anomalies that create unexpected outcomes. I’m documenting the results, and hope to extend space bridge ranges beyond our known universe.”

“Far out,” Jazz said, grinning. 

First Aid and Bumblebee both snickered then stifled their laughs.

Optimus smiled behind his mask, glad he could hide his own reaction. “That sounds fascinating. I look forward to the results.”

Perceptor’s confused look at First Aid and Bumblebee faded and he smiled at their leader. “Absolutely. You’ll be the first I notify of any progress.”

“Then I declare our weekly check in meeting: dismissed. Thank you all,” Optimus said, waving goodbye to his distant colleagues before cutting the transmissions.

First Aid and Perceptor quickly got to their feet and left, both obviously anxious to get back to their tasks. Jazz stayed where he was, leaning back in his seat, arms folded against his chest.

“Might need a lil’ somethin’ from you later,” Jazz said, cryptically. 

“My door is open anytime. You know that,” Optimus replied. “Anything to report here on Earth from your surveillance?”

“Thought our meetin’ was over,” Jazz replied, half-smiling. “And nah. Quiet. The Cons aren’t around here.” 

“Good. I do hope they don’t decide to return to cause trouble,” Optimus replied. 

“I dunno. Might be a nice distraction,” Jazz said, smile faltering. “I got too much time on my hands these days.”

Optimus focused his gaze on Jazz, spark aching for him. He didn’t know how to reply. Jazz was not the same after the death of Prowl; lost and struggling.

“I got patrol,” Jazz said after a long pause. He got to his feet and flashed a forced smile at Optimus. “Later, Big Guy.”

“Be safe,” Optimus replied.

Jazz gracefully turned on his heels and sauntered out of the conference room.

Once he was alone, Optimus’ posture sank. He was the leader of the Autobots again, but he felt like a husk of who he’d once been. A walking corpse like those movies humans seemed to enjoy. Afterall, he should be dead. Every day he onlined, it felt wrong. In time he thought he’d acclimate to being alive again, but it still felt uncomfortable for him, and keeping up appearances was an exhausting daily task.

He rubbed his face with both hands, then cycled air through his intakes. No matter how hollow he felt inside, he was still their leader. The least he could do was act his part.

…

The base was quiet, most were off duty and in their quarters. Finished with his tasks for the day, Optimus walked toward the officer’s quarters. This time of day used to fill him with dread. Being alone in his room with his thoughts and discomfort held no appeal. Things had changed in the last few months, though.

He tapped his code and the door to his quarters slid open, revealing a lovely former spy curled up on his sofa reading a datapad. 

“Good evening,” Optimus said, walking in. He crossed over to where Jazz sat, placing a hand on his helm and gently petting a helm horn. “Still reading the novel I gave you?”

“Yeah, I like it. Good distraction,” Jazz replied, leaning into the touch. “Filled up a cube for ya.”

Optimus saw the full energon cube on the small table at the foot of the sofa. He gracefully sat beside Jazz, picking up the cube and opening his mask.

Jazz paused reading, looking at Optimus once his face was uncovered. “I don’t think I’ll get tired of seein’ the big reveal.”

Optimus chuckled. “It will eventually lose its luster, I’m sure.”

Jazz turned off the datapad and slid it onto the low table. 

Optimus sipped his fuel, optics on Jazz. The former spy intentionally stretched his arms over his head and sighed. This had become a ritual of sorts. The same dance every evening. Finishing the fuel, Optimus started to get up to wash the glass, but Jazz took it from him, hopping to his feet and rinsing it in the sink. Spinning back around, Jazz returned, and straddled Optimus’ lap instead of sitting down beside him. He cupped his exposed face in his hands and they kissed. 

Optimus had never intended for this relationship to happen between them. He wasn’t sure it even qualified as a relationship. Jazz snuck around to see him, and no one knew what they did behind closed doors. It gave them both a sense of comfort and an enjoyable distraction from the pain they each dealt with. 

Sliding his large hands around Jazz’s smaller frame, he rested them on black hips. Optimus deepened their kiss, entwining their glossa between linked mouths. Jazz moaned, gyrating his hips in Optimus’ lap. 

Breaking the long kiss, Jazz stared intently at Optimus. “Wanna ride you right here. You good with that?” 

“As long as you stay after, you can have whatever you want,” Optimus replied. 

Jazz kissed Optimus sweetly. “I always do, don’t I?”

Optimus nodded, his panel opening for Jazz. Deft fingers immediately stroked his spike, and Jazz hummed approvingly. Jazz’s panel opened next, and after a few moments of heavy petting, Optimus helped lift and lower his smaller lover over his large spike, impaling him slowly. 

They both moaned as their bodies connected through their arrays. Jazz grasped Optimus’ shoulders tightly and rolled his hips to stretch his valve properly. Optimus’ hands squeezed Jazz’s waist as he let his head fall back against the sofa and moaned. 

For a little while, that empty, uncomfortable feeling in his spark faded. Desire and the warmth of Jazz so close pushed the pain aside. It was temporary, but Optimus didn’t care. It helped him cope. 

Jazz rode his spike, moaning as he rose and fell over and over. When his rhythm became more erratic, Optimus took control, hugging Jazz to his chest and pistoning his hips with sharp thrusts that soon drove Jazz to the edge.

“Frag! Oh Frag!” Jazz suddenly shuddered against Optimus, overloading hard. He cried out, body hot to the touch as his valve squeezed Optimus’ spike tightly. Eventually his smaller frame relaxed as his overload ebbed, and he tucked his face against Optimus’ neck. “Okay, finish up. Fill me up.” 

Optimus moaned in response. There was something about Jazz dirty talking that sent his lust into high gear. He grasped Jazz’s aft with both hands and proceeded to thrust hard and deep. 

“Frag me harder,” Jazz groaned, fingers digging into Optimus’ chest. “I wanna feel that heat inside me.”

Lasting barely a moment more, Optimus roared, thrusting to the hilt as he overloaded. He held himself buried as he spilled into his small lover, making a mess of both of them. 

They both panted softly in the aftermath, reveling in the pleasure of overloading. The best distraction they’d discovered. A secret that never left the sanctity of Optimus’ quarters. They stayed curled up close for quite a while after. Optimus let his fingers drift lightly over the shapes of Jazz’s lovely frame, mindful of thoroughly enjoying how this felt. 

Jazz sighed, breaking the spell of the moment. “Guess we should clean up…” Jazz said with a regretful smile, shifting his hips to free Optimus. 

“My apologies,” Optimus replied. 

Jazz shook his head then kissed Optimus. “Don’t be sorry for makin’ me overload so hard my vision whited out.”

Optimus shyly smiled. “I meant the mess.”

“Don’t be sorry for that, either. I love how it feels,” Jazz replied with a mischievous smile. 

Heat flashed over Optimus’ face. Jazz was not his type. Brash and forward, smaller and cocky. The type of mech that loved interfacing and had no shame. But sharing their pain in private had driven them toward one another, and Optimus needed this mech in his life more than he could ever admit. 

They both got to their feet and wandered to his private wash rack. It normally took some time, since they often made out, which in turn would lead to one more round of interfacing in the washrack before they would properly clean up.

Afterward, they settled in Optimus’ large berth. The interfacing was enjoyable but being in his berth together was the part of their evenings Optimus enjoyed most. Jazz would hug himself to his side and they’d drift off into recharge together. Until Jazz had started staying the night, Optimus barely recharged. Having Jazz’s comforting presence quieted his processor of the usual spiraling thoughts he dealt with about his being brought back from the dead. 

Each evening was close to the same routine, offering comfort in it’s regularity. Optimus felt fortunate to have Jazz in his life like this, even if it was secret. 

An extraordinary day 

Jazz quietly hummed to himself as he got ready in the morning. He liked to do a little detail work, mostly removing any paint scuffs or dents that might give away what he and Optimus were up to at night. He looked over at their leader, now awake and watching Jazz.

“Morning, Big Guy,” Jazz said, smiling. 

“Good morning,” Optimus replied as he sat up.

There was no denying that Optimus was a very attractive mech. Broad chest, handsome face, incredible spike. But he wasn’t Prowl. Jazz had hoped over time his pain from losing his true love would fade enough for him to move on. It seemed to only hurt more with each passing day. 

Prowl had been Jazz’s world. They’d been together since early in the war, and no one could ever fill his spark the way Prowl had. They were going to bond once the war was over, but that hadn’t happened. It remained one of Jazz’s greatest regrets. Had they bonded, he’d likely have died from the broken bond and joined Prowl in the well of sparks. But here he was, fragging their leader in secret to distract himself from the deep ache of loss he contended with daily. 

“Jazz?”

Jazz looked up at Optimus quizzically. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been cleaning the same spot. Are you alright?” Optimus asked as he slid to the edge of the berth, putting his feet on the floor. 

“Oh. Yeah. Just got caught up thinking ‘bout somethin’,” Jazz replied, playing it off. “Um, so you cool with me dropping by later?”

“Of course,” Optimus replied. 

Jazz picked up his cloth and bottle of cleaner and went over to Optimus, leaning in to kiss him. He smiled, then kissed his leader’s nose before stuffing his detailing supplies in his sub space pocket. “Catch you later, handsome.”

Optimus shyly smiled in response. For being the leader of the Autobots, he was a little like a youngling sometimes when he was alone with Jazz. He chalked it up to Optimus’ complete lack of experience with relationships. His first had apparently been arranged and didn’t work out. He was pretty sure he’d not been with anyone else until Jazz drunkenly crossed the line one night.

High tailing out of Optimus’ quarters, Jazz felt the familiar weight of loss and loneliness settle in over him. Unfortunately, the escapism Optimus offered only lasted inside the walls of his quarters. 

…

Optimus sat in his office, staring at his hands holding a datapad. When he stared long enough, they no longer felt like they were attached to his body. He would push that feeling harder, wondering if he felt completely detached from his frame if he’d be free of it again. Free to return the well of sparks. He often did this when he was alone in his office, left with nothing but this discomfort and lack of desire to live. 

A loud and unexpected ping interrupted his thoughts from his internal comm. ::Perceptor, what is it?:: he asked, deeply frowning behind his mask.

::Optimus, you must come to my lab, right now. _Right this second!_ I’ve discovered something incredible and require your consent to continue.:: Perceptor sounded incredibly excited. ::Crossing universes, I would never have imagined it was even possible. You must hurry!::

::I’m on my way.:: Optimus wasn’t sure what Perceptor was babbling about, but the whole “universes” part had him concerned. Their resident scientist was brilliant, but sometimes didn’t see when he went past boundaries that best left alone. 

He quickly made his way to Perceptor’s lab. The door was closed, and he pressed the buzzer. The door cracked open and when Perceptor saw it was Optimus, he quickly opened it to pull his leader inside. 

“It’s almost unfathomable, sir. I knew space bridge technology worked within quantum realms in order to move particles across vast distances, but I had no idea that in doing so the particles, or in this case, the signal I beamed made of sub-molecular particulates, would also move across the entire known quantum spectrum and exit in another universe,” Perceptor explained as he walked Optimus into the main section of his lab. 

“Perceptor, what are you talking about? I need a bit more context,” Optimus said, trying to figure out what exactly Perceptor was trying to say.

“Here,” Perceptor said, pressing a button on his console. The large screen went from black to showing a video feed of the impossible. “They are from a parallel universe. One in which Cybertron is destroyed.”

“Optimus Prime? Is that really you?”

“Primus, he looks like he’s only a couple million years old. That can’t be him.”

To Optimus’ complete shock, he saw Prowl and Ironhide on the screen. Both dirty and extremely damaged. Prowl looked more or less like the Prowl he’d known. Ironhide looked like he was practically Bumblebee’s age, young and bright-opticked. 

“I _am_ Optimus Prime,” Optimus replied.

“We need your help,” Prowl said, desperation bleeding into his voice. “We are the last living Cybertronians we know of. We can’t last against the Swarm forever. It’s been months and we are running out of places to go and find what meager rations we can.”

“The Swarm?” Optimus felt like his head was spinning. What in the world had Perceptor done?

“Yes. They are creatures that eat everything in their path without any regard. They have destroyed the planet and in turn everyone we knew,” Prowl replied.

“We buried our Prime almost three Cyber-years ago, now. What was left, anyway. You gotta use that thing Perceptor made and get us to your universe. Save us!” Ironhide pleaded. 

“Sir, it is your call as the Prime. I can initiate the full signal and pull them through. I already sent them a couple energon rations to test the connection,” Perceptor explained. 

Prowl held up a mostly empty energon ration pouch. “We drank it, and we have had no side effects. So that’s a good sign.”

“But sending a ration, which was not authorized,” Optimus said, sternly looking at Perceptor. “And pulling two living beings from one universe into another are two different scenarios. It might kill them, Perceptor.”

“We’re already dead,” Ironhide replied. “You leave us here, and we’re dead. We will run outta places to go try an’ hide, and to be honest, staying one place like this too much longer will definitely kill us. But we stuck around because workin’ monitors and computer systems are few and far between.”

This was not what Optimus expected to happen today and processing it was making his head hurt. “I understand the urgency, but I would like one hour to confer with my council. Then I will return with my decision.”

Ironhide opened his mouth to protest, but Prowl squeezed his shoulder to stop him. “We will wait as long as we can.”

Perceptor turned off the visual feed. “Sir, they will die if we do not help them.”

“I know, but there are so many potential ramifications. We must discuss this,” Optimus replied.

…

Emergency pings brought all of Optimus’ council together again only a day after their weekly reports. He sat at the head of the table as the connection to Cybertron and Luna-1 were established with Ultra Magnus and Bumblebee. 

Jazz was frowning at Optimus, clearly wary of his somber demeanor and this sudden call for a meeting. 

“Optimus, I only have a few minutes before I am needed at the refinery being built for inspections,” Ultra Magnus said as he appeared on screen.

“I thank all of you for interrupting your day for this. I would not be convening you all if it was not vitally important. Perceptor has unwittingly connected his space bridge technology to a parallel universe. In this universe he has made contact with two survivors of an apocalyptic version of Cybertron. I am in the unfathomable position of deciding how to handle this. If I should proceed with bringing them here in order to save their lives, or leave them in their intended universe to perish,” Optimus explained as best he could.

“Two? Who are they?” Bumblebee asked.

“Prowl and what appears to be a much younger version of Ironhide,” Perceptor answered.

“We bring ‘em here,” Jazz immediately answered. 

Those words almost felt like a stab right through Optimus’ spark, but he didn’t show it. 

“What if they are riddled with viruses or contaminants that could destroy us? The hate plague almost wiped us out. We can’t take a chance they’d bring something of that magnitude here,” Ultra Magnus replied. 

“Well, we could quarantine them,” First Aid replied. “Observe and test them to rule out anything potentially harmful.”

“I’m with Jazz. Bring them here. Why let them die?” Bumblebee piped up. “Our Prowl and Ironhide are gone, so it shouldn’t affect anything, right?”

“I believe the space bridge technology I used may have come across these two mechs precisely because it would not affect our own universe. They have lost all of us, and we have lost them. It requires much more testing, but I do believe it is seeking balance with the link it created,” Perceptor expounded.

Optimus frowned behind his mask. He couldn’t let them die, but he also knew he was about to give up something that had been precious to him. “How long will a quarantine take to set up?”

“I already have a sterile room in medbay. I set it up after the hate plague. I wanted to be sure we could contain anything like that in the future,” First Aid replied. 

“Perceptor, can you move them to the quarantine area with the space bridge link?” Optimus asked. 

“Yes, of course. I can move them to within micrometers of any specified location,” Perceptor replied.

“Proceed with transferring them,” Optimus replied. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I still think this might be a bad idea,” Ultra Magnus replied.

“It might be, but I _can’t_ in good conscience leave them there to die,” Optimus replied, 

…

Jazz stood with Optimus and First Aid on the other side of a large reinforced glass wall in medbay. Inside the quarantine area, rations and blankets were neatly piled on one side of the room. 

“Why aren’t there any berths or tables or nothing like that?” Jazz asked.

“The space is set up to be safe for them and us. Nothing that could be used to harm themselves or us is allowed,” First Aid explained. 

“Perceptor is ready, he is initiating the signal now,” Optimus suddenly informed Jazz and First Aid, having obviously been pinged by the scientist on a private comm.

The room filled with particles and the venting system kicked on, clearing the room and locking the particles in a quarantine chamber for further analysis. As the room cleared, two mechs appeared before them, huddled together and crouched on the floor. 

“Welcome. There is a speaker system, so we can hear each other,” First Aid said in a friendly tone. 

Jazz immediately noticed a poor weld job barely holding one of Prowl’s doorwings on. “Prowl, what’s up with your wing?”

Prowl scooted so his back was no longer visible, and half hid behind Ironhide as they both stood up at their full heights. He held onto Ironhide’s arm for support, unable to stand up on his own. Another nasty-looking weld held one of his legs together. 

“What, you don’t like my repair job?” Ironhide asked sarcastically. “He’s in one piece after facing a hungry Swarm. That’s a fragging miracle.”

Ironhide was also covered in bites and gashes all over his frame, but he was built for battle, unlike Prowl. 

“We apologize for the quarantine, but it’s to be sure everyone is kept safe,” Optimus explained.

“Of course. We’re grateful you chose to save us. Thank you,” Prowl replied.

“Prowl’s in really rough shape,” First Aid said, looking to Optimus. “But I need at least forty-eight Earth hours to be able to run all the testing.”

“Are you crazy? Two days?” Jazz replied. “You’re gonna leave ‘em in there without berths, and beaten to slag for two days?”

“Jazz,” Optimus said in a warning tone. “This is not ideal, but necessary.”

Jazz looked at Prowl through the glass, his spark aching. It was _a_ Prowl. Not his, but still, he felt a deep urge to protect him. Do what he could for him. The moment he thought that, he glanced at Optimus, and could see a distance in his optics that hadn’t been there this morning. 

“Please make yourselves as comfortable as possible. I will let you settle in and return to ask a bunch of questions in a little bit, okay?” First Aid said, trying to bring at least a little berthside manner to the situation.

“We appreciate everything you’re willing to do for us,” Prowl replied. “We’ll be happy to answer your questions.”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful. I’m glad you decided to save us,” Ironhide said, smiling at Optimus. 

“We’ll let you have some privacy.” Optimus then turned and ushered Jazz and First Aid out of the room. 

In the main area of medbay, First Aid looked to Optimus. “I will need Percy’s help on this.”

“Pull in whomever you need to help,” Optimus authorized.

“Thank you,” First Aid jogged out of medbay to find Perceptor.

Jazz looked up at Optimus once First Aid left. “Optimus, you okay?”

“I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?” Optimus replied.

Jazz grimaced. “It’s not gonna change things.”

“It already has,” Optimus replied. “And that’s okay.”

“How can you say that? That isn’t _my_ Prowl. It’s just some other Prowl.” Jazz reached for Optimus, but his leader stepped back. 

“Jazz, this is not the place for this discussion. We will speak later,” Optimus replied. He then turned and quickly swept out of medbay.

Jazz’s shoulders immediately felt like they weighed a gigaton. Grief from losing Prowl made everyday hard enough, but Optimus appeared ready to just let him go. Maybe he was cursed or something. Or maybe he deserved to be punished for living on after Prowl was dead. He glanced at the door to the quarantine area and frowned. Fate was a total aft for throwing another Prowl into his already messy life. “He’s not _my_ Prowl, though…” he quietly repeated.  
  



	2. Two Worlds

The room lights had been dimmed so they could recharge once First Aid was done with his questions, but Prowl couldn’t get comfortable. He laid on his side, wide awake, trying to reconcile the last few hours of his and Ironhide’s lives. 

They’d come across that old computer console, having heard Perceptor babbling to himself. The scientist had nearly fallen out of his chair when Prowl turned on the video link, and said hello to him. They’d spent the next couple of hours unsure if they should stay or not. If that other Optimus didn’t want to help them, they were fragged. The Swarm moved fast and they only had one clear escape route to the next location. But Optimus _ had _ saved them. 

Of course, the last thing Prowl expected to see when that dust cleared was Jazz. 

“Prowl, you should rest. Why’re you still awake over there?” Ironhide asked.

“Because this is not how we recharge,” Prowl replied.

“Well, it ain’t exactly private here,” Ironhide replied. “But I don’t care if you don’t care. I just figured with who all we saw when the dust cleared that I should be a little more hands off.”

“He’s not my Jazz,” Prowl replied. “Mine is dead.” He touched the piece of Jazz’s spark chamber he’d had Ironhide weld to his chest in remembrance. 

“I know, Prowl,” Ironhide replied in a softened tone. “So, if you don’t care, then we outta recharge the way we usually do, hm?”

Prowl nodded. “I’m not comfortable like this.”

Ironhide moved in closer, and gently helped Prowl move. Due to his injuries, they’d found Prowl was only able to rest when all the weight was off the welds. Draped partly across Ironhide, Prowl rested the injured wing on Ironhide’s arm and head on his chest. 

“Better?” Ironhide asked.

“Yes. Thank you,” Prowl replied, shivering a little. 

“You feel a little cold,” Ironhide replied. “One sec, lift yer wing.” He reached for a nearby blanket, and carefully laid it over them. Laying back down, Prowl rested the wing on his arm again and curled in closer to Ironhide under the blanket. Ironhide rubbed Prowl’s lower back, finding that usually helped him relax enough to drift off, and sure enough, the light of his optics went out within only a few moments. “Exhausted, weren’t you?” he whispered.

Ironhide glanced around the weird room in the dimmed light. He and Prowl had been on the run together for months and months. They were as close as two mechs could be in pretty much every way. Seeing a Jazz existed in this other universe was going to mess a lot of that up, though. Ironhide was sad to have their thing end but at the same time the part of him that cared deeply for Prowl wanted him to be happy above all else. If that meant being happy with some other Jazz, so be it. He was a realist, after all. Until then, he would be whatever Prowl needed him to be. 

Mostly, he was just happy they were going to live.

…

Optimus had run from Jazz, and now he was hiding in his office like a coward. He drank his third serving of the high grade he’d been gifted by Ultra Magnus on the anniversary of his resurrection, feeling the intoxicating effects finally slow his systems. He leaned back in his large chair and dimmed his optics. This day had not gone at all how he expected. He’d done what he knew was right, even though he knew it was going to cost him. 

The locked door of his office cycled and opened. Jazz let himself in and locked the door behind him. Good, he was at least a little drunk before they had the “talk”. Maybe it would hurt less this way.

“Jazz.”

Jazz looked at the bottle on the desk, and almost empty glass. “How many?”

“Three, I think?” Optimus replied.

“The stuff Magnus gave you?” Jazz asked.

“It’s quite good,” Optimus replied.

“You know what I found really interestin’ about you when we first started talkin’ while I was the one drunk off my aft?” Jazz asked, rounding the desk and putting the lid on the bottle.

“About me?” Optimus asked.

“Yeah,  _ you _ . See, thing is, you’re a Prime, and the matrix made you all wise and whatnot. Did the same thing to Hot Rod, right?” Jazz said conversationally as he sat on the edge of the desk and faced Optimus.

“Yes, that’s how it works,” Optimus confirmed before finishing his drink.

“But the matrix is empty now, and Hot rod went back to bein’ Hot Rod. And you couldn’t go back to some old version of you ‘cause Alpha Trion rebuilt you. Havin’ been our leader for so long, you know the song and dance. You know how to act and pretend and you even had me fooled until we started spendin’ time alone together. That’s when I realized you’re still that mech that almost died on a loading dock.” Jazz took the empty glass from Optimus and set it on the desk. “You’re back to being your old, insecure self. And on top of all that, you were brought back from the dead against your will. So you got a head full of issues just as bad as me and not bein’ able to let go of losing Prowl.  _ My _ Prowl.”

Optimus softly sighed, and looked away from Jazz. “The minute I saw him, I knew this, whatever this is, would end.”

Jazz was quiet for a long moment. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll be honest, neither of us has really given it much of a real try.”

“Real try? Jazz, you break into my quarters and we interface. It’s a secret from everyone. How is that the basis for a relationship?” Optimus asked.

“It’s not by most definitions.” Jazz canted his head. “But you’re upset like it is. So maybe, it is.”

“Primus, you sound like a fortune telling artifact,” Optimus replied as he sat up in his chair. “I’m upset because you’re the one thing I was hanging onto and I don’t want to lose that. At the same time, your Prowl or not your Prowl, you deserve to be with a mech that makes you happy.”

Jazz frowned. “You care about me.”

“Of course I do,” Optimus replied.

Sighing, Jazz reached over and took hold of Optimus’ hand. “I care about you, too, Big Guy. But I don’t know if this is love.” Jazz instantly regretted how he’d phrased it, seeing hurt all over Optimus’ face. 

Optimus yanked his hand free of Jazz’s hold. “Please go. And don’t be in my quarters when I do go back.”

“Optimus, I didn’t mean it couldn’t one day be that,” Jazz said, attempting to explain what he meant. “We haven’t really tried, though. Maybe we need to.”

“Please, just go.” Optimus said, tears rimming the edges of his optics. 

Jazz shook his head. “Optimus…”

“Please…” 

“Look, I’m gonna go, but only so you can sober up. Alright?” Jazz said.

Optimus simply waved him off, wanting to be left alone. Always alone. 

Jazz got to his feet, but before he left, he kissed Optimus’ helm crest. “Tomorrow we’re gonna have a talk ‘bout all this. When you’re clear-headed. A real talk about what each of us wants. Not just what each of us needs to get by.” 

Once the door was closed, Optimus broke down. He cried for so much more than potential rejection. He cried for a life the matrix robbed him of, and for the pain of existing when all he wanted was to be dead and gone. Jazz had been right, the matrix had altered who he was. Without it, he was back to being that inexperienced, impressionable Orion Pax on that dock. He was so tired of pretending to be the leader of the Autobots, but he didn’t know who else to be.

…

Prowl felt drowsy, and absently kissed Ironhide’s neck as he slowly woke. His body was so damaged, waking up took longer than it once had. Ironhide pet Prowl’s body gently under the blanket. 

“Um, Prowl? We kinda aren’t alone,” Ironhide said in a hushed voice. 

Cycling his optics several times, Prowl remembered the day before. The trip across universes and the quarantine room. He turned his head toward the window where First Aid and Perceptor were standing and chatting. 

“Initial tests show no known contaminates, and all readings are normal on both the air in the room and particles from the space bridge,” First Aid said to Perceptor as he scrolled through data on a pad he was showing Perceptor.

“Right, not alone,” Prowl replied quietly. “It’s odd.”

“Movin’ to a parallel universe?” Ironhide asked.

“That. But also not being alone. It’s just been us for so long now,” Prowl replied.

“Yeah. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have stopped you,” Ironhide said, grinning. 

Prowl chuckled a little. 

Despite Prowl’s reputation as a stickler and pain in the aft, Ironhide had seen a different side of him during their time together. He had a wonderfully dry sense of humor and was incredible as a lover. Under the blanket, Ironhide used his free arm to reach down and squeeze Prowl’s aft. 

“That is certainly not stopping,” Prowl replied, raising an optic ridge. 

“You think I could get you off in front of ‘em and they’d never know?” Ironhide asked, fingers slipping between Prowl’s legs. 

“Are you asking if I could stifle myself enough not to raise suspicions?” Prowl asked.

“Yeah, wanna try?” Ironhide asked, grinning. 

“You have the most insatiable physical appetite of anyone I have ever berthed,” Prowl replied in a dry tone.

“What’da ya want? I’m young and I got a hot Praxian all over me,” Ironhide replied.

Prowl suddenly stilled before he turned his attention to the window again. The look on his face was serious. Ironhide realized that while Prowl had been bantering he’d also been listening to the two on the other side of the glass talk at the same time. Beaten up or not, his processor was just as sharp as it ever was. Ironhide turned his head and listened, too.

“The worrisome piece of data is here. It appears to be an anomaly in the energy signature that we don’t possess in this universe. From what I can tell, it doesn’t affect them in this universe at all, or else the energon they consumed would not have been converted properly, which your tests show it has,” Perceptor said, showing First Aid his datapad.

“But, maybe that’s just their energy signatures? Like anyone from that universe has it, and maybe we have our own distinct one as well?” First Aid hypothesized. 

“That is an interesting interpretation. I will analyze ours as well, and check all the markers,” Perceptor replied, smiling. 

First Aid looked up and saw both Prowl and Ironhide looking at them. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

“Like I wanna frag, but we’re in a zoo,” Ironhide mumbled under his breath.

Prowl gave him a pointed look. 

“What?” Ironhide said, feigning innocence.

“We are as well as we can be in our condition,” Prowl answered, looking back at the medic.

“Um, I noticed you recharged, um, well, together?” First Aid asked, awkwardly fingering his datapad.

“Oh, yes. It is quite fascinating. Are you two lovers?” Perceptor asked.

First Aid punched the scientist in the arm. “Perceptor!”

Prowl smiled. He’d missed his comrades. These other versions of them were nice to talk with. They reminded him of better times. “Being the only mechs left we know of, yes. We are all things to one another.”

First Aid was a little surprised by the candor, but that then led to another concern. “Are you bonded?”

Ironhide and Prowl looked at each other for a moment. 

“Did he really just say bonded?” Ironhide asked. 

“No. It’s a dangerous practice we do not participate in. Have not for eons,” Prowl replied, glancing back at First Aid.

The medic and scientist shared confused looks. “Oh, well, here we do. I just needed to know for the medical record. It’s not a dangerous practice here.”

“These mechs are weird,” Ironhide said with a frown.

Prowl shrugged. “Perhaps our universes simply have different rules.”

“I do have some good news,” First Aid said. “You’re both showing completely normal readings. Perceptor has a few things he still needs to check. If there is anything you need, we can send it through the airlock on my right here.” He gestured to a small door in the wall.

“For the moment, I only want a lil’ privacy,” Ironhide replied.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” First Aid gently pushed Perceptor to toward the door. “I can give you about an Earth hour before I will need to come and do a check on the readings again. Is that alright?”

“It’ll do,” Ironhide replied, petting Prowl’s aft under the blanket. Alone together, Ironhide looked at Prowl and smiled. “I was only half serious. If you aren’t up for anything...“ 

Prowl’s condition had deteriorated quite a bit in the past couple of weeks. They’d not done much more than overload one another by touch now and again.

Prowl kissed him sweetly. “I enjoy interfacing with you, but I'm afraid I’m not up to it right now. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” Ironhide gently touched Prowl’s chevron. After a long moment, he half-frowned. “So, how upset about seein’ that other Jazz are ya?”

“More than I expected,” Prowl replied, leaning into his fingers.

“Whadya want to happen?” Ironhide asked, sadly gazing at his best friend. 

“Truthfully?” Prowl frowned. “For that first moment I saw him, I wanted to rush to him. But, then I realized, it’s not the same Jazz. Not the one I lost.”

Ironhide nuzzled Prowl’s cheek. “Maybe that’s all you need, though? A Jazz?”

Prowl sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe...” he dimmed his optics. “What I know for sure: I need time to examine my feelings and acclimate to this new world.”

Ironhide kissed Prowl’s helm crest. “That’s a very Prowl answer.”

Smiling, Prowl lay back down and cuddled against Ironhide. “What about you? How are you feeling about all this?”

“I’m just glad we’re gonna live,” Ironhide replied with a short chuckle.

“Very practical of you” Prowl replied, fingers tracing the edge of Ironhide’s chestplate. 

“Look, if you decide you wanna dump me and chase after the Jazz here, I get it. I want you to be happy more than anything. But at the same time, yer my best friend, and I don’t know if I could deal with losing the friendship part,” Ironhide admitted. 

Prowl warmly smiled. “I feel the same. Though, I’m not quite ready to end the physical part of our relationship.” He let his fingers trail slowly over Ironhide’s frame. “We are forever bound by what we survived.” He then kissed Ironhide’s cheek. “And I consider you my best friend, too.”

Ironhide hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear Prowl say that he cared until he did. Ironhide had meant every word, loving this mech to the very core of his spark. That was why he wanted him to be happy, even if in the end it wasn’t with him. Until then, he’d take whatever Prowl was willing to offer him.

…

Optimus woke in his berth with a processor ache. He winced and curled in on himself. He’d staggered back to his quarters and had one more drink before passing out. Without Jazz here, he knew being intoxicated was the only way he’d recharge at all. Now that he was awake, he was regretting his previous night’s actions. 

He started to drift off again when he heard someone in the front room of his quarters. Rolling to his back, he looked through his open berthroom door at Jazz sitting on his sofa with the datapad novel and a glass of energon. 

Frowning, he sat up quickly which led to a searing pain in his head. He groaned, grasping at his helm with both hands. 

“The trick to gettin’ drunk when yer trying to drown problems is to not stop drinkin’,” Jazz said from the other room. “But because I’m a nice mech, I left a systems clearing tablet on your berthside table. Should take the edge off yer processor ache.”

Optimus saw the blue gel-tablet and his frown deepened. “You’re quite infuriating.” 

“Just take it,” Jazz replied, not looking up from his novel. 

Picking up the tablet, Optimus braced himself for the awful taste. He shoved it in his mouth, bit down then swallowed the gel tablet quickly to minimize the aftertaste. He made a disgusted face when the bitterness permeated his mouth anyway. 

“Got some energon here for ya. To wash that down,” Jazz said, pausing his reading to point to the glass on the table. 

Optimus sat in his berth for a long moment. He’d not wanted to have this conversation but it seemed there was no escaping it. With a heavy sigh, Optimus got to his feet. He joined Jazz on the sofa, and then picked up the energon, sipping the fuel to rid himself of the tablet taste. 

Jazz turned off the datapad and tossed it on the table. Then he turned to face Optimus with a serious look on his face. “How you feelin’?”

Optimus didn’t immediately answer. He took another sip then placed the glass down before looking at Jazz. “Like a fool.”

Sadly frowning, Jazz sighed. “You remember when you carried me back to my quarters after I got so drunk I couldn’t stand up?”

Optimus nodded. “You were in the main hallway and Danny found you. He was scared you might die. To be honest, I was worried that was your ultimate goal.”

“Might’ve been.” Jazz reached up, and touched the edges of his visor. “Prowl was my entire world.” He pressed notches that released the catches and removed his visor. He’d only ever let medics and Prowl see his optics before this moment. But he wanted to show Optimus the level of trust he had in him. “I still miss him like there’s a hole in my spark. And truth is, you’ve been a lifeline for me. I can depend on you and, most of all, be myself with you.”

Optimus stared in awe at Jazz’s exposed face. “Your optics…” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

“It’s a medical condition, the thing with my optics.” Jazz squinted. “I can barely see anything without my visor.” Jazz had a flaw in his optic cortex that was not repairable. It caused near blindness but it also made his optics multicolored; hues of blue, purple, and teal. “I haven’t been too fair to you. Gettin’ what I want and not really considerin’ how that affects you.”

“You’ve been a comfort,” Optimus replied.

Jazz smiled at that. “You’ve been amazing’ to me. Maybe it’s time we try this thing for real. Out in the open.”

Optimus looked down at his hands in his lap, optics dimming. “Prowl left a hole in your spark, it only makes sense you fill it with Prowl.”

“That mech is not  _ my _ Prowl. I got no history with him. May as well be a stranger. I got history with  _ you _ . A really nice one. I’m ready to stop sneakin’ around. Are you?” Jazz asked, exasperated. 

In his spark, Optimus knew Jazz would eventually choose Prowl. But at the same time, he was so scared to be left all alone, and Jazz was offering him true companionship. He looked at Jazz, knowing how selfish he was for not being strong enough. For not doing what he knew he should because of his insecurities. He gave in to his weaker self.

“Okay. Yes. I’d like to try,” Optimus replied. 

Jazz grinned and threw himself forward, hugging Optimus. Sliding his large arms around Jazz, Optimus hugged him close. He knew in his spark he’d regret this choice. But at least he wouldn’t be alone for a little while longer.


	3. Intersecting Lives

First Aid was growing increasingly concerned. Prowl’s readings were showing extensive internal damages. He scrolled through the data on the diagnostics taken and frowned. He wasn't sure Prowl would last the forty-eight hours. 

Datapad in hand, he walked into the quarantine area to check on the universe travelers only to see they’d not moved since the morning. Ironhide was still under Prowl with a blanket over them. He walked up to the window between them, noticing small things that further worried him: Prowl was shivering, Ironhide looked worried, and Prowl had been recharging for the last three hours.

“Hello,” First Aid said in a friendly voice. 

Ironhide looked at him. “What’s up, doc?”

“I was going over the data and I’m concerned about Prowl’s condition. How long has been shivering like that?” First Aid asked.

“Started a couple weeks ago. He can’t get warm, even with me trying to heat ‘im up,” Ironhide replied. 

“Has his recharging cycles increased?” First Aid asked. 

“Yeah. A lot. And he’s always super groggy when he wakes up,” Ironhide replied, frowning. “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

First Aid frowned behind his mask. “Without examining him up close, I can’t say for certain. But, those are all very worrying symptoms.”

Ironhide looked at Prowl, and sighed. “How much longer are we gonna be stuck in here?”

“It’s only been one Earth day. The rest of the test results won’t be ready until tomorrow,” First Aid replied. 

“You know, Prowl wanted to leave. He didn’t think you all would let us cross here. I insisted we wait because I knew how bad off he was. This was his only chance at real medical help,” Ironhide looked to First Aid. “You gotta help him. We ain’t gonna make you sick. Please. Don’t leave him like this.”

First Aid gripped his datapad tightly. He should ask permission from Optimus. Or he could simply ask forgiveness later… “I’ll be right back.”

After setting up one of the operating suites with quarantine protocols, First Aid left medbay and snuck into Perceptor’s lab. The scientist had passed out at his desk, slumped in front of his computer screen busy running his most recent inputs. 

First Aid moved quietly past him to the space bridge controls. He locked on Prowl’s signal and set it on a timer to move him to the operating suite. As silently as he’d entered, he slipped back out of the lab, leaving Perceptor undisturbed. 

Returning to medbay, First Aid jogged into the quarantine room and locked gazes with Ironhide. “I need you to stay still. I’m transporting Prowl to another room to assess and repair.”

Ironhide looked at him with pleading optics. “You save him and I’ll do anything you ever need until I die.”

“I will save him.” First Aid replied. 

He then quickly left the quarantine area and entered the operating suite. He turned on the pressurizing controls to seal the room in making it a second quarantine area. 

Prowl materialized front first on the medberth. He groaned, optics dimly lighting as he woke from the transportation. 

“Stay right as you are,” First Aid replied, moving around the berth, pressing controls to adjust its shape to fit Prowl’s protruding chest and take pressure off his back. “How’s that?”

“Comfortable.” Prowl’s optics dimmed. 

First Aid frowned worriedly and turned on the stasis controls to sedate Prowl while he worked. Prowl relaxed completely and his optics shuttered as he slipped offline. Sighing, First Aid gazed at the extensive damage he could see, and wondered just how much worse the internal damage was. “Now to see just how bad these injuries are.”

…

Ironhide paced the quarantine area, worried. Prowl meant so much to him, and he knew he’d have a difficult time facing this new unknown universe alone. He wanted them to navigate this whole new existence and second chance  _ together _ .

Perceptor came running into the quarantine area on the other side of the glass wall. “No. He didn’t…”

Ironhide came to a stop, then pressed both hands on the glass as he locked gazes with Perceptor. “Is he okay? ‘Aid took him almost three hours ago, accordin’ to Earth standard time.”

Perceptor looked overwhelmed, then ran out. 

Ironhide leaned forward, forehelm clinking against the thick glass. “Please Prowl… Be okay,” he murmured.

Sounds outside the quarantine area drew his gaze. Perceptor had left the door open on the otherside and he caught glimpses of what looked like Optimus and possibly Jazz flash past. 

He waited. Someone would come talk to him, wouldn’t they? After several minutes, Ironhide resumed his pacing. He’d had the Swarm creatures bite into him and gnaw at his plating as he fought them off with his bare hands more than once. He’d had to self-weld his own wounds to survive. The Swarm felt like a walk in the park compared to the dread and uncertainty he felt waiting to know if Prowl was okay or not.

Heavy footfall drew his attention and he stopped pacing when Optimus walked in. The young leader approached the glass dividing the room. Ironhide moved closer, standing in front of him. 

“As you are aware, First Aid broke his own protocol and exposed himself to Prowl in order to address his need for repairs,” Optimus said with a calm, even tone.

“Is Prowl alive?” Ironhide asked.

“Yes, of course,” Optimus assured him. “First Aid is still repairing some internal damage from a poison that’s been destroying several of his internal systems, but he informed us that Prowl is stable.”

Ironhide sighed with relief. “Thank Primus.”

“First Aid will tend to him and they are in isolation until the tests are back,” Optimus explained. “So far, according to Perceptor, other than an unidentified energy anomaly there is nothing different about you and Prowl that could be dangerous to this world. He is concerned about the reading, but said it doesn’t seem to be destabilizing either of you, and now we will see how First Aid’s contact with Prowl goes.”

Nodding, Ironhide smiled. “Well, sounds pretty good. Even if ‘Aid did something you disapprove of.”

Optimus softly sighed and looked down. “I am not the Prime I once was.”

Ironhide canted his head slightly at the statement. This Optimus was very different from the one he’d known. It wasn’t just his youth that made him appear different, but his entire demeanor. There was a distance in his gaze. “We both owe you our lives. Saving us is exactly what a Prime would do.”

Optimus looked at Ironhide, sadness in his optics deepening. “I know.” He then stiffened his posture, and lifted his head up again, putting on an air of authority. “You will be notified of any changes, and I appreciate your patience. This is an unprecedented situation.”

“I get to live and Prowl will be okay, too. I got no problem waiting,” Ironhide replied with a smile.

Optimus’ optics curved, a sad smile hidden behind his mask. He nodded then exited the area, this time closing the outer door. 

Ironhide was intrigued by this Optimus. He wanted to know more about him, why he was so different. But that was a riddle for another day. First thing was first, him and Prowl getting out of this quarantine. 

…

Prowl awoke to several errors scrolling through his internal HUD; missing doorwing, new firewall software installation updates pending, lower body immoble, and more. He unshuttered his optics to see he was not with Ironhide. He was on a med berth, and the medic was in the corner of the room working on repairs to his doorwing no longer attached to his body.

“Has the isolation period passed?” Prowl asked.

First Aid jumped at hearing his voice. “How are you awake? I put the stasis settings on!” He moved to the med berth, and shook his head. “They are on?”

“I have a hacking program that can bypass most stasis systems, though, I cannot move my lower body at all,” Prowl explained.

“Why would you need to hack a stasis system?” First Aid asked, looking shocked.

“Being trapped behind enemy lines, for one,” Prowl replied. “You did not answer my question.”

“I quarantined us in this surgery suite to start on your repairs. You were dying, but I think you knew that,” First Aid said with a frown behind his mask. “That poison corrupted almost every single system in your body. I purged it completely, which took a few hours. Now I’m getting to the big repairs before some of the more delicate ones. I highly doubt you want to be awake while I rebuild things like your electrical systems or internal thermal regulatory unit.”

“Interesting… Are my internal systems different than the Cybertronian inhabitants of this parallel universe?” Prowl asked.

“Nope. Same. The only difference I found were programs I never saw before and a lack of some firewalls we use, which I tried to install,” First Aid explained. “All software changes need to be approved by you, I noticed.”

“Yes. I have a battle computer installation that requires careful examination of any new programming,” Prowl replied. “What is this ‘hate plague protocol’ you attempted to install?”

“The hate plague was a virus that nearly wiped us all out,” First Aid replied. “I suggest you let the protection protocol install.”

“Noted.” Prowl glanced at the monitors blinking with his vitals. “You stabilized me.”

First Aid “Barely, but yes, I did.”

“How is Ironhide? Has he been left alone in the other area?” Prowl asked, his cooler demeanor suddenly softening with genuine concern. 

“I don’t know. I think Optimus went to talk to him, but I doubt anyone is in there with him.” First Aid tilted his head a little. “You want me to comm to have them check in regularly?”

“Please. I don’t want him to feel abandoned,” Prowl replied.

“You two really do care for eachother, huh?” First Aid asked.

“We are bound by our shared experiences and life together over the last few years,” Prowl said, not bothering to hide the churning emotions he did feel about so much loss and how hard it had been for them. 

“In our world Jazz was with the Prowl here until he died. I just assumed you’d have been with Jazz in yours, too.” First Aid said with a small shrug.

“Jazz was the love of my life,” Prowl replied. “He died in my arms after being attacked by a small pod of swarm, and while on the subject, please do not remove the metal welded to my chest.”

“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t assume anything! Primus, I put my foot in my mouth...” First Aid winced behind his mask, kicking himself internally for assuming anything at all. He looked at the metal scrap and after a moment realized what it was. “Is that your Jazz’s spark chamber? What’s left anyway?”

“It is. I would appreciate you leaving it attached to my plating.” Prowl’s optics dimmed considerably as he looked away from the medic.

“I won’t touch it. Promise. Anything else I should know?” First Aid asked.

Prowl looked back at the young medic. “I appreciate all you have done to save my life.”

First Aid shyly lowered his head. “Well, I’m gonna stop saying stupid things, and get back to fixing your doorwing properly. If you can, let the stasis system do its job and get some rest, okay?”

Prowl nodded.

…

Jazz had spent the morning in his office, unhappy to see new reports of possible Decepticon activity. “After so long, why?” he moaned as he saw security footage of insecticons at a power plant in Central America. He got to his feet and headed straight down the hall to Optimus’ office. 

Walking in, he set the datapad with the images down over top of the datapad Optimus was reading. “Insecticons.”

Optimus softly sighed, setting the one he was reading down and looking at the one forcibly handed to him. “There are images. So it’s confirmed.”

“On top of Perceptor’s crazy experiment going outta control, now we might have ‘Cons to worry ‘bout,” Jazz said, exasperated. 

“The insecticons were never loyal to Megatron, I doubt they have any loyalty to Galvatron. Perhaps they were dormant and woken by some kind of event,” Optimus postulated. 

“You want me to go do some recon and pinpoint their location?” Jazz asked.

“We don’t have the same well trained spies we once had, I would rather you not take such a high risk. Let the Aerialbots do long distance recon to help find their location, and then we can decide how to handle it,” Optimus replied.

Jazz smirked. “You don’t want me gettin’ hurt, hm?”

“You know I don’t.” Optimus held Jazz’s gaze. “But, is that not what a Prime would do? Should I send you?”

The smirk faded to concern. “I was teasin’. I didn’t mean to question you or anything,” Jazz replied.

Optimus looked away and shook his head. “Don’t mind me. Feeling more insecure than usual.”

Jazz rounded the desk, and sat on the edge. He cupped Optimus’ face and smiled warmly as he gazed into his optics. “You’re a great leader. Don’t you doubt that.”

“A-hem.”

Quickly pulling apart from one another, they turned to see Blaster in the doorway. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I got an urgent message from Magnus. Decepticons off-world apparently had a big ol’ firefight with themselves. He wants to send in some ships to check for survivors to arrest.” Blaster held out his datapad with the message and intell.

Jazz quickly got to his feet, taking the datapad and looking at the message as he walked it to Optimus. “Well, frag. First insecticons, now this?”

Optimus looked at the message and the intell images. He took a moment to think through what his action should be. Let the Decepticons destroy themselves? Offer to help? Or do as Magnus would prefer, and arrest any he found. “Please respond to him with the following message: Do not engage with Decepticons at this time. Please maintain the safe zone around Cybertron. If refugees arrive please assess their potential crimes on a case by case basis and arrest accordingly. If their past crimes are minor or non-existent, please integrate them.”

Blaster nodded. “Got it. I’ll send it right away.” He started the leave, then paused and grinned. “You two are awfully cute together.”

Optimus’ face instantly heated with his intense embarrassment. 

“ _ Blaster _ ,” Jazz chided. “Don’t be a glitch. And thanks.”

Blaster chuckled as jogged off to send the message. 

Jazz glanced at Optimus, seeing he was not amused. He walked over and leaned down, kissing the closed mask. “In the open. Don’t gotta hide how we feel, remember?”

“We are on duty,” Optimus pointed out.

“That’s fair. So let’s start with off duty bein’ in the open. Tonight. In the lounge. You and me and a couch in the corner to watch some Earth entertainment. How ‘bout it?” Jazz asked.

Optimus paused, wishing this was as easy for him as it appeared to be for Jazz. “In the lounge. I will meet you there.”

Jazz grinned. “It’ll get easier, but we gotta really try.”

“Of course,” Optimus replied, though he was full to the brim with doubts. 

…

Ironhide was bored. He stared at the closed door, wishing he could at the very least be in the room with the medic and Prowl. Various mechs had checked on him now and again, but he could care less about their lame efforts to comfort him. All he wanted was to face this crazy new world  _ with _ Prowl.

The door suddenly opened and Perceptor came in, optics bright and smiling. “Good news. You are both cleared of all potential contaminants.” He initiated the controls to open the glass wall. “I am concerned about the energy sig--”

Ironhide rushed past him and out the door. “Where is he?” He asked standing in the middle of the unfamiliar medbay. 

Perceptor followed him out and then pointed to a set of surgical suites in the back. “If you mean Prowl, he’s in room four with our CMO. But, I haven’t told—”

Ironhide made a beeline to the room, and pressed his face against the port window in the door to look into the locked suite. The medberth was at an angle to prop Prowl up in a seated position, and he was reading a datapad. Tapping the glass, Ironhide grinned. 

First Aid and Prowl both looked at him. 

“I hadn’t yet told them the 48 hours are up,” Perceptor said, joining Ironhide at his side. “How about I unlock this?” Pressing the controls, the door opened, the containment seal broken. 

“They both are cleared?” First Aid asked as the door slid open.

“Yes,” Perceptor confirmed. 

Ironhide rushed inside and hugged Prowl. “Thank Primus!”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Prowl replied, petting Ironhide’s arm. 

Pulling back, Ironhide took in the view of Prowl completely repaired. “You look  _ good _ . How you feelin’?”

“Quite well, actually. First Aid is a top notch medic,” Prowl replied. He flexed both doorwings to show Ironhide. “Practically like a fresh upgrade.”

Ironhide grinned. 

“Now you on the other hand,” First Aid said, wiping his hands with a cloth and looking Ironhide up and down. “You need medical attention, too.”

“Can it wait?” Ironhide asked. “I’m not gonna die or anything.” After being alone together for so long, he was actually feeling irritated by all these mechs around. He just wanted a moment truly alone with Prowl.

First Aid heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest, I could use some energon and a recharge cycle.”

“Then tomorrow Ironhide can return for repairs?” Prowl asked.

“That’s fine with me,” First Aid agreed.

“Glad to see you are both out of quarantine,” Optimus said, appearing in the doorway. 

“Yes, sir,” Prowl replied, old habits easily returning when it came to command structure. 

“So, where exactly are we supposed to go now?” Ironhide asked, curious what the plan was for them.

“We have two quarters all set up for each of you. I can take you there after we have a quick briefing in my office,” Optimus replied. “When you’re both ready, of course.”

Prowl swung his legs off the berth, then stood beside Ironhide. “We only require one quarters to share. And I’m ready for your briefing now.”

“Me too,” Ironhide agreed. The sooner they were alone together the better as far as he was concerned. They had a cargo ship’s worth of things they needed to talk about.

“Of course. I understand. Follow me,” Optimus replied.

…

Jazz wasn’t one to normally feel nervous, but he couldn’t help worry he might be stood up. He shifted on the lounge couch, and softly sighed. Optimus was about ten minutes late. He really shouldn’t freak out yet. So why was his spark pulsing faster?

Blaster shot Jazz a dirty look when he moved again on the couch. “You got rust beetles in your joints or something?”

“Huh?” Jazz glanced at Blaster on the floor next to the couch. 

“You can’t sit still,” Blaster pointed out. 

“He’s making me nuts, too,” Cliffjumper said with a frown from a lounge chair. 

Jazz frowned in reply to both of them. 

The doorway opened and for a moment Jazz perked up, until he saw it was Hot Spot and Streetwise. 

“What’cha bots watching?” Streetwise asked as he collapsed on the adjoining couch, and Hot Spot sat next to him.

“There’s a zombie movie on! It’s supposed to be funny. Starts in a couple minutes,” Blaster replied. 

“Cool,” Streetwise replied, getting himself cozy.

Jazz checked the time, Optimus was now fifteen minutes late. Maybe he really had been stood up? Maybe it was a mistake to try and turn this into a real relationship? Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed?

The mechs in the lounge started lightly chatting, waiting for the movie to start.

The door opened again and Optimus stepped into the lounge. 

The chatting immediately stopped. 

Optimus tentatively approached the group. “I heard you are watching a movie this evening?” 

“Sure are! It’s a funny zombie movie. The humans may be organic but they make some awesome entertainment,” Blaster replied.

Jazz perked up, scooting over a little. 

“Sounds fun. I hope it’s alright if I join you?” Optimus asked, clearly unsure of himself. 

“Yeah, don’t be silly. Of course you can,” Jazz replied. “Right everyone?”

The others murmured, affirming it was fine. 

Optimus sat beside Jazz and folded his hands in his lap, obviously unsure how to casually sit in the group. Jazz grinned and scooted closer to him, leaning against his side. The fact Optimus was in some ways like an inexperienced youngling was an endearing quality to Jazz. 

The movie started and everyone focused on the large screen. 

Jazz grasped one of Optimus’ hands, prying them apart and holding it in his own lap. He could feel Optimus’ plating heat against his where they touched. He glanced up at Optimus who was looking vaguely confused at the screen, but it was hard to tell with his mask still engaged. That was something Jazz decided he would work on; getting Optimus comfortable enough to not wear it in casual settings like this. 

When the movie ended, everyone chatted about it. Optimus remained quiet, only listening to the group of friends. Eventually Jazz made an excuse, and he and Optimus left the lounge. 

They were almost at the command staff suites before Jazz couldn’t take the prolonged silence a moment longer.

“So how much did you hate that?” Jazz asked as they reached Optimus’ quarters. 

“I didn’t hate it,” Optimus replied. “I do apologize for being late, though.” He tapped the keypad to his quarters and they went inside. 

“I thought maybe you changed your mind,” Jazz replied, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Even though it was to him. 

“I had to brief Prowl and Ironhide and get them settled into their quarters. It took longer than I expected. I apologize,” Optimus replied as he sat on his sofa. 

_ Prowl. _ That single word made Jazz feel a slew of things he’d rather not think about. “So, what’s gonna happen with ‘em? Now that they’re here and not going to make us sick or rip our universe apart or anything.” Jazz sat beside Optimus on the sofa, turned part way to face him. 

Optimus let his mask finally split and retract, revealing his handsome face. “They’ve agreed to integrate into the crew. I have assigned Ironhide to report ground ops, and he’ll be part of patrols and response teams. Prowl requested to be part of security, so he will report into Hot Spot.” 

Jazz’s small smile faded. “It’s fragging weird, isn’t it? All the sudden they’re here?”

“It is,” Optimus agreed with a small frown. “But letting them die wasn’t an option and I hope in time we will all acclimate to each other.”

Jazz then moved to drape himself over Optimus’ chest. He fingered the red plating at the edge of his broad chest. “I’m serious about us trying this for real. You know that, right? This other Prowl is exactly that. Some other mech I don’t even know.”

Optimus wrapped both arms around Jazz, and kissed the nearby helm horn. “I know. For full disclosure, I had prepared two quarters for them, and they requested one. It appears they are quite close.”

Jazz nodded. “They survived an apocalyptic world together. That’s gotta make a strong emotional bond.”

“It appears so,” Optimus replied.

Jazz shifted, tipping his head up and capturing Optimus’ exposed lips in a brief kiss. “We have our own traumas binding us, too.”

Optimus sadly smiled. “This is the only time I feel at peace. With you.”

“Same, Big Guy. Same.”

…

The minute the door closed and they were finally alone, Ironhide swept Prowl into a tight hug. 

“Primus, I thought I was gonna lose ya,” Ironhide said, optics dimming.

Prowl softly sighed. “Had we not crossed here and had that medic not broken their rules, I believe I would, in fact, be dead.” 

Ironhide pulled back, gazing into the face he’d grown very attached to. “I‘m real glad yer not.” 

Placing both hands on Ironhide’s chest, Prowl stood on his toes and kissed Ironhide sweetly. “I believe the first order of business would be much needed overload.”

Chuckling, Ironhide groped Prowl’s aft. “Oh yeah? What’s the logic behind that?”

“It’s been almost four solar cycle weeks since our last intimate encounter. My body is at peak condition, and my processor is always much clearer afterward,” Prowl replied. 

“Good reasons,” Ironhide replied, grinning. “I’m kinda a dirty mess, though.”

Prowl half-smiled. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“You  _ know _ I don’t.” Ironhide laughed and swept Prowl off his feet and carted him into the adjoining berthroom. Depositing him on the berth, Ironhide crawled over top of him, their lips immediately seeking each other to kiss deeply. 

The first time they’d interfaced had been after almost half a solar cycle of surviving alone together. Ironhide had been in a foul mood for weeks, one he couldn’t shake. He’d snapped at Prowl over something minor and Prowl confronted him on his behavior. When Ironhide couldn’t quite find the words to explain his general sour mood, Prowl kissed him. Then it hit them both instantly: a shared desire and a need for physical closeness. Something lacking in their lives until that moment.

Ironhide kissed down Prowl’s neck and across his chest. He always paused to reverently touch Jazz’s spark chamber, before moving on and kissing his way over to a headlight. He knew there was no way he’d ever be to Prowl what Jazz had been. Which was why this situation was so messy with yet another Jazz here. 

Ironhide pushed his mixed emotions aside, though. He licked a headlight, causing Prowl to arch and moan. Prowl was one beautiful mech…

Scooting backward, Ironhide kissed the closed cover to Prowl’s array, which immediately slid open. Most mechs had standard spikes, varying shades of grey. Prowl’s spike, however, was white with flourish shapes of black up each side. Ironhide flicked his glossa out and licked the shaft slowly, earning him a groan in response. He mouthed the head and was about to swallow the length when Prowl gently pushed on his helm crest. 

“I deeply enjoy your mouth on my array but I’m currently craving your spike,” Prowl explained. 

“Gotcha. Then spike you get.” Ironhide moved again, his own array cover opening. He worked his own, rather dull grey, but quite sizable, spike with one hand as he moved into position over Prowl. Lining himself up, he pressed forward with his hips, stretching the slick mesh walls of Prowl’s valve. Primus help him, it felt heavenly. “Been way too long…” he moaned. 

“It has,” Prowl replied, voice airy. 

Ironhide didn’t waste a moment, and started to thrust at an even pace. He propped himself up on his hands and grunted with his efforts. 

Prowl slid both arms around Ironhide, pulling him down so their bodies were pressed close. Helms touching, optics dimmed, they moved together. Ironhide rolled his hips and Prowl met each thrust with his. When they interfaced this way, it felt incredibly intimate, and Ironhide would find himself wishing he could find a place in Prowl’s spark. He carefully kept that desire concealed, though. 

Fingers soon dug into Ironhide’s plating and Prowl cried out sharply, his valve squeezing down tightly. Ironhide thrust through Prowl’s overload, finishing himself with a deep roar as he pressed to the hilt with his own release. Frag it felt good. 

They didn’t move for several minutes. Ironhide knew Prowl enjoyed his weight and they often would stay like this, stretching the moment out as long as possible. 

Eventually Prowl’s doorwings twitched, and Ironhide took his cue, pushing himself up and off. He flopped on his back in the large berth and Prowl moved to lay up against his side. 

“Head clearer?” Ironhide asked with a small smile.

“Much. Thank you,” Prowl replied. His optics became unfocused as he went into his thinking mode. 

“So, what kinda things are rattling around in there? I, for one, am wonderin’ about the history of this place. How come we managed to survive but our other selves here didn’t?” Ironhide pondered aloud. 

“There must be differences between us and them. First Aid gave me a datapad of info I read much of. I’ll share with you,” Prowl replied. 

“And, what about this Prime? He’s so young and not… Prime like?” Ironhide asked. 

“From what I read, their matrix is different here. It has altering effects on the mech that carries it,” Prowl replied. “Ours was simply an artifact. And our Prime was wise due to his experience and age.” Prowl softly sighed. “But what concerns me is that they still have a Deception threat.” 

“Seems pretty quiet to me,” Ironhide replied. 

“Perhaps.”

“And, uh, Jazz?” 

Prowl curled in closer to Ironhide and dimmed his optics. “Not a subject I am ready to discuss.”

“Understood.” Ironhide gently hugged Prowl to his side. In truth, he wasn’t quite ready to let go of Prowl and was in no rush for him to decide what he wanted to do about that yet.


	4. Near and Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters are a little short...

**Four weeks later:**

“Fraggit! Send in the Aerialbots, and make them take Springer since he’s here,” Hot Spot ordered from the command deck. 

Groove sent the order on, and Air Raid balked over the open comm line. 

Prowl frowned, listening to how disorganized and messy the Autobot response was. He looked up at the screen, seeing the Insecticons chomping down the walls of a hydro-electric plant to break in. His doorwings quivered unconsciously at the sight. They looked like the Swarm and yet they lacked the darkness Prowl associated with the ones he’d fought to survive against.

Hot Spot barked more orders, and the Aerialbots did as they pleased, following Silverbolt’s command instead. Springer joined them and after several minutes of a battle, the hydro electric plant was in ruins and the Insecticons had escaped. 

Prowl pulled out a personal datapad he’d been keeping notes in. At some point he knew he would have to report his observations, but the idea that he may need to speak to Jazz as well Optimus stopped him short of bypassing the command structure. He finished his quick notes and set the datapad aside, resuming his directed tasks under Hot Shot’s command.

…

With the increase in Decepticon related incidents on Earth and his relationship with Jazz ongoing in the open, Optimus had less and less time to himself. Having been interrupted for the fifth time in his office in the morning, he finally left out of frustration.

He just needed a moment to himself. 

On the roof of Autobot City, he took in the warmth of the Earth’s close star, and leaned on the guardrail, gazing out across the place he now considered home. From this high up, he could see the slight curvature of the planet. It was quite beautiful.

The situation with Jazz was different now. Optimus had been open to a relationship but now found it stressful. Their earlier arrangement had less at stake, and therefore felt easier. As his attachment to Jazz grew, so did his worry around Prowl. It concerned him that in four weeks, Jazz and Prowl had managed to avoid one another on base. It felt like a disaster waiting to happen. One he knew would likely blow up in his face, but it couldn’t continue on this way, either. He was also somewhat surprised by just how much discomfort he was willing to put up with just to keep Jazz at his side.

The door to the roof opened and he turned, seeing the young Ironhide sauntering his direction. 

“Hey, wasn’t expectin’ anyone up here, least of all the Prime,” Ironhide said as he walked over.

Ironhide embodied such a strange juxtaposition; bright optics and a youthful appearance coupled with an old friend’s familiar voice. 

“Do you come up here often?” Optimus asked.

Ironhide chuckled. “Isn’t that an old pick up line?”

Embarrassed, Optimus’ optics brightened then dimmed. “I didn’t intend to sound—“

“I’m teasing.” Ironhide leaned on the guardrail next to Optimus. “I come up here on my breaks. About this time every day.”

“Why is that?” Optimus asked. 

“I like taking a moment to look out over the planet that’s alive and try to appreciate I’m alive, too.” Ironhide glanced at Optimus. “I sound pretty hokey, huh?” 

Optimus smiled behind his mask. “You sound like a mech appreciative of a second chance. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad, too.” Ironhide smiled as he gazed out over the landscape. “I read up on the history of this universe. I suppose you know how I feel, having a second chance yourself.”

Optimus’ hidden smile faded. “My second chance is different.”

Ironhide looked back at him. “Because you died?”

“Yes,” Optimus simply replied. 

“Well, I dunno what death is like, but it seems like a chance neither of us should squander,” Ironhide replied.

“I am doing my best,” Optimus said, unable to hide the insecurity he felt. 

Ironhide nodded. “That counts for a lot. Tryin’ and failing is better than not tryin’ at all.”

“I certainly am not immune to failing,” Optimus replied. 

Chuckling, Ironhide looked at Optimus. “No one is.” He then turned slightly to face Optimus. “You’re different than the Prime I knew in our universe.”

“I’d prefer you call me Optimus. Not Prime.” Optimus held the young warrior’s gaze. “You are different from the Ironhide I knew, too. At the same time, you’re just like him. You simply have optimism and youth he didn’t,” Optimus replied.

Ironhide canted his head slightly, optics examining Optimus for a long moment. “Optimus, hm. Okay. Well,  _ Optimus _ , you’re just like the Prime I followed in my former world but young and there’s somethin’ else about you I can’t quite pin down. I’ll tell you what, though, I’m honored to serve under you.”

Optimus smiled behind his mask. “I’m really happy we were able to save you both.” 

“Me, too,” Ironhide replied, grinning. 

Optimus resumed looking out over the scenery below. Despite not getting his moment alone, he didn’t find Ironhide a stressful distraction. In fact, they both grew quiet as they enjoyed the view in a companionable silence. 

…

Intell gathering from Ultra Magnus had overwhelmed Optimus’ desk. Upon returning to office from his little much-needed break with Ironhide, he settled in to tackle the information overload. 

“Sir?”

Optimus tensed, pushing back his desire to snap at yet another visitor interrupting him. Looking up his ire instantly faded, replaced with insecurity. It was Prowl. 

“Come in. What can I do for you?” Optimus asked.

Prowl entered and offered a datapad. It was small, a personal one for notes. “I have some recommendations based on my observations over the last four weeks that I wanted to share.”

Optimus took the offered pad, and started to skim the notes. He leaned back in his chair, not surprised by Prowl’s recommendations or the amazing thoroughness of his offered information. “Sit,” Optimus said after a moment. 

Nodding, Prowl took a seat in a visitor chair, but perched on the edge of it, as if ready to flee.

“Did you have Vector Sigma in your universe?” Optimus asked as he looked up at Prowl. 

“No. It sounds like a relic, though?” Prowl replied, canting his curiously. 

“Yes. It had the ability to create sparks. Every mech you mention in your notes here is a Vector Sigma mech,” Optimus explained.

“Are you saying they have a glitch of some kind?” Prowl asked. 

Optimus chuckled a little. “No, nothing like that. They are young. Most less than ten Earth years old.”

Prowl’s doorwings lowered fractionally as his processor quickly adapted the new information. “That’s not quite three solar cycles,” he murmured. “They are  _ quite _ young.”

“They’re sparklings with adult frames and weapons,” Optimus replied. “And much of the older mechs that would have helped train them are gone.”

Prowl frowned. “Pardon my ignorance, what is a  _ sparkling _ ?”

“You didn’t have sparklings in your universe?” Optimus asked, surprised. “How did you procreate?”

“We didn’t.” Prowl looked almost startled by Optimus’ question. “All sparks were found on a planet in a nursery of sorts and put into protoform frames. Later when more of our kind were needed, a donor spark would have a portion extracted to create a new spark.”

It was Optimus’ turn to look shocked. “Extractions?”

“Once we lost medics to the Swarm, our numbers were finite,” Prowl replied. 

“That’s, well, very different from this universe. Here we share sparks, create bonds, and spark merging can result in a new light spark. That’s one method we’ve used to make new life, until Megatron discovered Vector Sigma. Then both sides used the relic to create several new sparks,” Optimus explained. “But the sparks it created are fully formed.”

With a pensive look, Prowl nodded in understanding. “In essence, you require help training these mechs?”

Optimus smiled behind his mask. Prowl was just like the one he’d known, task oriented. “Yes. To be perfectly honest, I was surprised you’d asked for a lower position. You were command staff in your world and Primus knows I could benefit from your council.”

Tensing, Prowl frowned slightly. “I felt it might not be appropriate.”

“Because of Jazz?” Optimus asked, not seeing the point of pretending it wasn't an issue.

Prowl tightly pressed his lips together for a moment before he replied. “I would like to be respectful of the leadership structure here.”

Did Optimus want Jazz to leave him for Prowl, of course not. But he needed these new mechs to integrate into their world. Avoidance was not a long term solution. If his relationship with Jazz was going to truly be strong, he couldn’t let his personal insecurities allow them to continue like this. 

Handing the datapad back to Prowl, Optimus took on his most authoritative posture. “I would like you and Ironhide as part of my command staff. I’d like you both to take on the task of training our teams, but I have one caveat.”

“Which is?” Prowl asked, taking the datapad. 

“You need to speak with Jazz. Show him your notes, and get his take on their performances. He is in charge of planet wide response to threats, and needs to be aware,” Optimus said, trying to sound more sure of himself than he was. “I realize this is uncomfortable for both of you, but it’s important you both figure out how to be around each other. Having you all as part of my command staff is vital right now.”

“I would be honored to take on such a task, and I believe Ironhide would be quite happy as well. I will speak with Jazz,” Prowl replied. 

Would Optimus regret this? Possibly. But he knew deep down it was the right thing to do, even if it also terrified him. 

…

Jazz hated the constant reports and data he had to read through. It was an annoying task that Optimus usually helped with. Ever since the Deceptions had that huge battle amongst themselves, though, Optimus had been buried in his own deluge of reports from Ultra Magnus.

“Maybe we should have a report reading party or something…” Jazz mumbled to himself before dramatically flopping forward on his desk across the scattered datapads. “Frag me…”

“Um, do you have a moment?”

Jazz stilled, optics going bright. That voice made every micrometer of his frame tense. Lifting his head, he locked gazes with Prowl. “Uh, hey there.”

Prowl looked just as uncomfortable as Jazz was. His doorwings slightly low and he was seemingly glued to the doorway, not entering. “You appear busy, perhaps I’ll come—“

“Nah, get in here. Gotta face each other at some point, right?” Jazz said, sitting back in his seat properly. 

Nodding, Prowl entered. He fingered a personal-sized data pad as he surveyed the mess of datapads on Jazz’s desk. “That is a lot of reports…”

“You’re telling me. I’m drowning. But that’s not why you’re here,” Jazz replied. 

“No. I just spoke with your Prime. He requested my and Ironhide’s assistance in training your young Vector mechs. But he said I needed to speak with you in order to become part of the command staff. He asked that I share my notes and suggestions with you.” Prowl stepped closer, offering Jazz the datapad.

“He’s your Prime, too. And he hates being called that. Make sure you address him as Optimus, ‘kay?” Jazz took the datapad and quickly skimmed the notes Prowl had taken. 

“Of course. Thank you for letting me know,” Prowl replied. 

“They’re a mess, alright. This pile of insanity is from them. They don’t even know how to make efficient reports and I’ve  _ tried _ training them…” Jazz leaned back in his seat and sighed as he continued to read.

“Not to discount your skills in training, perhaps they need to start from the basics?” Prowl offered. 

Jazz half-smiled. Prowl was Prowl. Even if it wasn’t his Prowl. “Don’t gotta be nice. I know I’ve not been on top of things. It was so quiet for so long that I let my depression get the better of me.”

Prowl’s doorwings lowered fractionally in response. 

“Things are different now. Can’t let things slide anymore. I think havin’ you and Ironhide help will be awesome,” Jazz replied, handing the datapad back. 

Looking at Jazz’s desk, Prowl deeply frowned. “May I offer my assistance with your stacks of reports?”

“Oh Primus, please! Yes!” Jazz replied emphatically. “I’d owe you a huge bottle of high grade if you could help me. Optimus usually does but he’s buried in Magnus reports.” 

It was funny, Prowl made him feel simultaneously uncomfortable and at ease at all once. 

“I would be happy to help,” Prowl replied, with a small smile. 

Jazz scooped up several datapads and handed them off. “There’s plenty of open offices, pick one you like.”

Prowl graciously nodded. “I will. I look forward to working with you. I know it may be difficult but I think Prime—I mean to say, Optimus, is right that we must find a way to be around one another.”

“He’s usually right. Part of being in charge, I suppose. Look, I don’t want this to be weird, either. Let’s just take it a day at a time and we’ll figure it out.”

Prowl nodded. “Agreed.”


	5. Crashing

**Eight weeks later:**

“Teletran, please report. Why is the alarm sounding?” Optimus asked as he bolted from his office at the red alert.

“Decepticon at base entrance,” Teletran replied.

There had been a rise in incidents planetwide. Insecticons remained on the loose, Contructicons were stealing supplies but never caught, and now they had a Deception on their doorstep?

Optimus took long strides, just short of running toward the entrance where most of the Protectobot team were standing with weapons pointed at an old enemy. 

“Soundwave’s just standing there. Not moving. Won’t answer us, either,” Streetwise said, looking at Optimus. 

Sharpening his focus, Optimus could see Soundwave was covered in dents and cuts. Dried energon splattered his plating. He looked like he was barely able to stand. 

Stepping out past the Protectobots, Optimus slowly approached. 

“Optimus! What are you doing? It could be a trap!” Hot Shot called out. 

“Cover me,” Optimus replied, continuing his approach. 

As he got within a few feet, Optimus saw how heavily damaged Soundwave appeared. “Do you require assistance?” 

“I have violated your perimeter. Dispatch me,” Soundwave replied in his monotone voice. 

Optimus frowned behind his mask. “I don’t subscribe to the notion of punishment by death.”

Soundwave wavered slightly on his feet. “Please.” Despite his flat toned voice, Optimus heard the plea in that one word. 

“I offer mercy whenever possible. You must know that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come here. Wouldn’t you prefer a second chance?” Optimus asked, aware he struggled with his own second chance. He often questioned his sanity, wanting others to thrive when he often wished for death himself.

“No,” Soundwave replied simply. His visor suddenly went black and he collapsed, crumpling to the ground. 

Optimus moved without thinking, dropping to his knees beside Soundwave. “Get medical out here now!” He ordered, waving at the Protectobots. 

Looking down at Soundwave, Optimus touched his damaged helm. Why would he not want to live? Had he lost someone, too? Soundwave had once been Megatron’s SIC, but it wasn’t in Optimus to hate his enemy. It never had been. If it was possible to help Soundwave, then that was what he wanted to do.

…

“You sure this is the best idea?” Jazz asked, looking up at Optimus. “I mean, he  _ was _ Megatron’s right hand in the war.”

“I concur,” Prowl added, looking equally concerned. 

They stood outside the operating suite at the large viewing window observing First Aid and Perceptor working to repair Soundwave. Ironhide stood in the corner of the operating room on guard, just in case.

“Megatron is gone. Soundwave has not been his ‘second hand’ in quite some time now. Cyclonus holds the title of Second,” Optimus replied. “He asked me to kill him, and he has no cassettes with him. I would rather we give the benefit of doubt and hear his side before rushing to judgment.”

Jazz half-smiled. “You’ve got a spark of gold, you know that?”

Optimus’ face heated at the warm compliment. 

“I still prefer we are cautious. I may not know this Soundwave, but going through the records he has been the cause of many deaths in your war,” Prowl replied. 

“Too many deaths. I don’t want anymore, even his. Revenge does no one any good,” Optimus said, gaze fixated on First Aid’s talented fingers at work. He’d grown into quite a medic. One Ratchet would have been very proud of. 

“There is a difference between revenge and paying for a crime through justice,” Prowl pointed out. 

Optimus finally looked at Prowl. “I won’t argue that. When we know more, we’ll discuss how to handle his punishment.”

Prowl nodded, finally appeased. 

“Whew. Glad you’re both on the same page. I hate when the parents disagree,” Jazz said, laughing. 

This Prowl had been hardened by his time in his apocalyptic world. Optimus hoped being here would help him eventually soften his edges. Still, Prowl injected realism into a situation Optimus knew he’d not been properly handling before his arrival. He’d let his own sadness feed his complacency in letting everyone do as they pleased. Prowl’s vigilance was an asset so long as Optimus carefully tempered it with kindness. 

“Well, he’s as repaired as he’ll get,” First Aid said, stepping out of the operating room. 

“What about his lack of cassettes?” Optimus asked. 

“No clue. His subspace pocket was damaged but I need him awake to fix it. I also need to do some delicate visor repair. Best thing for him right now is to rest and let his auto repair work,”

First Aid replied. “I’m going to move him to room C. Low light in there will be better for optics.” First Aid held up the visor. “Seems he’s got a similar visual cortex to you, Jazz.”

“Really? Huh,” Jazz glanced back at Soundwave. 

Ironhide leaned in the doorway. “We should keep a guard on the door to his room.”

“Agreed. I’ll let you and Prowl arrange a rotating shift,” Optimus replied. 

…

“I’m finding this world very strange,” Prowl said, frowning at his energon. 

Sitting across from him in the refectory, Ironhide shrugged. “I like it here.”

“This Optimus is so…”

“Gentle? Kind?” Ironhide oftered.

Prowl scowled. “Soft.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t ya think?” Ironhide asked. 

“I realize you’ve become friends due to your rooftop visits with him, and I don’t mean to offend. He is not the strong leader I expected a Prime to be.” Prowl sadly frowned. “Perhaps it’s because I still feel separate from this universe. A piece out of place.”

Ironhide reached across the table and took hold of Prowl’s hand. “I feel like that, too. But I’m trying to fit in. And it’s not weird as it was at first. We just need time.”

Jazz sauntered into the refectory and over to the dispensaries to grab some energon. 

Prowl couldn’t help but look at him and feel a deep ache in his spark. They’d been here for several Earth weeks, and he’d been working beside Jazz, hoping it would fade. The ache didn’t get any better, though, if anything it was worse than ever. 

Ironhide squeezed Prowl’s hand, then let go. “ _ That _ is why you’re feeling how you feel.”

Glancing at Ironhide, Prowl felt guilt well up in his chest alongside that spark ache. “Hide…”

“Hey, I’m not gonna say it doesn’t hurt, but ultimately, I want  _ you _ to be happy. Even if it isn’t with me,” Ironhide replied. 

Prowl let his doorwings lower. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Be my best friend forever, and I’ll be fine,” Ironhide replied with a small smile. “I just need you in my life.”

Prowl’s optics dimmed. Then he looked over, his and Jazz’s gazes meeting. Jazz waved and smiled, then quickly exited. 

“I think my anger toward Optimus isn’t about his leadership style,” Prowl admitted. “It’s about Jazz.”

“Yeah, was wonderin’ when you’d finally work that out,” Ironhide replied with a sad smile. 

Prowl heavily sighed. He felt trapped in an emotional quagmire with no way out. He didn’t know how to navigate his complicated feelings, and Ironhide deserved better. Especially after all he’d done to help Prowl survive his loss. 

Grasping Ironhide’s hand again, Prowl looked into his optics. “I am sorry. From the depths of my spark. I can’t stop my feelings surrounding Jazz, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t important to me. I  _ need _ you in my life as well.”

Ironhide warmly smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

…

Leaning on the guardrail, Ironhide gazed out across the landscape. The door to the roof opened and Optimus walked over to where he stood, joining him. 

“How are you doing today?” Optimus asked. 

Ironhide considered lying, but he’d come to trust Optimus in the last few weeks. “Eh, I’m coping. Things with me and Prowl are kinda over, I think.”

Optimus looked surprised. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll be fine. We’re still best friends. Just, the rest of it isn’t workin’ out. Was different when it was just us, you know?” Ironhide replied. 

“Understandable,” Optimus replied. “Should I arrange separate quarters?”

“Nah. We’re still gonna stick together. I think Prowl just needs time to figure out stuff.” Ironhide looked at Optimus and quickly changed the subject, not wanting to reveal how Prowl was conflicted because of Jazz. “How ‘bout you? How are you doin’?”

Optimus softly sighed. “Coping, as well.”

“You and Jazz okay?” Ironhide asked. “I know you said it’s been hard bein’ all social with him.”

“I’m trying to acclimate to his world as best I can. I still feel out of place, though.” Optimus shrugged. “As long as my attempts are enough to keep him happy, my discomfort is worth it.”

Ironhide could see how mismatched they were, but who was he to judge? “Are you happy with him? That’s the important part, you know.”

Optimus nodded. “I am.”

“That’s what counts,” Ironhide replied. 

“Thank you, by the way. For listening to me complain. And especially for keeping it to yourself,” Optimus said, glancing at Ironhide. 

“What are friends for?” Ironhide said, broadly smiling. 

“To be perfectly honest, you’re my first friend. True friend, I mean,” Optimus replied. 

“Seriously? I’m honored but a little sad to hear that. Friends are real important,” Ironhide replied. 

“Being the matrix barer isn’t conducive to forming friendships,” Optimus said with a small shrug. 

Ironhide gazed at Optimus for a long moment. Optimus was a mech with a good spark. He didn’t find him disappointing like Prowl did. If anything, the fact he was so normal and honest made it easy to respect him. “Well, we’re  _ definitely _ friends and I’m here for you.  _ Always _ .”

Optimus’ optics curved from a hidden smile beneath his mask. “That means a lot to me.”

“So, what’s on the docket for this evening? I heard there’s a card game in the lounge,” Ironhide gently prodded.

“Yes, and I’m going with Jazz. I don’t suppose you’d like to come, too?” Optimus asked, with a touch of shyness in his voice.

“I can come by. Give you someone to talk to,” Ironhide replied. 

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Optimus replied, sounding relieved. 

…

Much to his dismay, Soundwave onlined. He lit his optics and glanced around the darkened room. One light at a low setting lit up a corner, along with the monitor screens. The medics were catering to his visual cortex anomaly.

Reaching up, Soundwave touched his face. No visor. No mask. He was exposed. He held a hand over his mouth, as memories of the last few days started to flood his processor. Tears welled on his optics as he brutally shut the memory files down. 

The door opened and a medic entered. “Hey, I saw your vitals showed you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Soundwave looked up at him, shoving his emotions deep down. He kept his hand over his mouth and didn’t answer.

“Well, I have your visor all fixed up. Here,” First Aid held it out, and Soundwave took it with his free hand and quickly put it on. “I’ll get your mask re-installed later today. But I wanted to ask you about some of your injuries. If that’s okay?”

Soundwave remained silent. 

First Aid hesitated for a moment. “Well, I was curious about the fact you don’t have cassettes with you and your broken subspace pocket. Could you tell me what happened?” First Aid asked. 

Flashes of memory surfaced again, and Soundwave was unable to hold back his tears, letting them skip down from under the edge of his visor. He simply shook his head, clamping his hand harder over his mouth. 

First Aid then opened his own mask, revealing a sad smile. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me now. Could you at least tell me if you are in pain at all?”

Soundwave shook his head again. “No physical pain.” 

“Good. I have the dampeners turned up to help. Let me know if you need more pain management help, okay?” First Aid replied. 

Soundwave nodded. 

First Aid watched him for a long moment, then he smiled. “I’ll let you rest. I need to go get prepped to repair your subspace. Sound good?”

Soundwave nodded again. 

Once First Aid was gone, Soundwave got out of the berth. Standing outside the dampeners of the medberth, the pain of his injuries radiated throughout his frame. It still paled in comparison with the pain in his spark from his loss. He shuffled to a cabinet in the room, slid open the door and rifled around. If Optimus would not end his life, then he would do it himself.

Locating a plate removal tool, he stumbled back a step. He let his chest open. The tool was long and metal with a hook at the end. 

“You deserved better from me…” he said before plunging the tool into his spark chamber. 

The world went black.

…

First Aid sat in his office, staring at nothing. He’d treated bad injuries, seen mechs die, but finding Soundwave on the floor with a plate removal tool in his chest was the worst thing he’d ever seen. He stared at nothing, his mind going over their interaction moments before. He should have known. Seen what was coming. 

A light knock at his door drew his distant gaze back to reality. He glanced over to see his gestaltmate, Groove, hovering in the doorway. 

“You okay?” Groove asked. 

“Not really,” First Aid admitted. 

His relationship with his gestalt was complicated. After declaring himself a pacifist, he’d had a huge argument with Hot Spot. It had created a rift in their group, but Groove and Streetwise continued to check in with him now and again. 

Groove came into the office, and sat on the desk edge next to First Aid. “You saved him. That’s incredible. You know that, right?”

“Is it? All he wants is to die. Ironhide has him cuffed to the medberth now to keep him immobile. How is that not cruel?” First Aid asked.

“Did he tell you why? Why he was so upset?” Groove asked.

“No. But my guess is whatever happened with his cassettes, that’s why he’s lost his will to live. What am I supposed to do? Get him new cassettes?” First Aid asked, gesturing in the air to show how futile it all felt.

Groove looked pensive for a moment. “Why not?”

First Aid looked at him, frowning behind his mask. “Why not, what?”

“Get him new cassettes?” Groove replied.

“For all I know, he killed his cassettes. How could I ask any other cassette class mechs or creatures to consider him as a carrier?” First Aid sighed, deflated.

“I don’t know much about how carriers and cassettes work. But it seems to me, just from knowing Blaster, carriers love their cassettes. So it stands to reason Soundwave loved his, too. Why else would he try to kill himself?” Groove reasoned. 

Groove had a point. Maybe Soundwave had lost those he loved most. It would explain his suicide attempt. 

First Aid put a hand on Groove’s leg. “Thank you. You’re probably right.”

Groove grinned. “You did the right thing, saving him. And  _ I _ think you’re an amazing medic.”

First Aid’s face heated at the compliment. “I’m okay.”

“Always so humble.” Groove leaned over, and hugged First Aid tightly. 

First Aid was eternally grateful not all of his gestalt had abandoned him. He hugged back and let himself sink into the hold. He wasn’t normally very affectionate, but he trusted Groove. 

“It’s okay to feel upset, too,” Groove said in a softened voice.

First Aid let tears of sadness and frustration surface. The awfulness of seeing a mech give up on life was terrible enough, but his empathic tendies led to him feeling that pain himself. He wished he could turn that part of himself off sometimes. But Ratchet told him to never let himself become cold and detached. He wanted to be the great medic his mentor had been, and took every lesson and piece of advice to spark. He would do his best for Soundwave, and try to help him find a reason to live to live again. 

…

Jazz kissed his way over Optimus’ plating. They’d moved their interfacing from only on the sofa to the berth in the last few weeks. Optimus pet his helm horns just right, sending fuzzy, warm waves over his sensory net. 

His thoughts weren’t totally on what they were doing, though. Ironhide had come to their gaming night earlier, and he and Optimus had been really friendly. Almost too friendly. Primus help him, Jazz was feeling twinges of jealousy. 

“Did ya have fun tonight?” Jazz asked, pausing his kisses across Optimus’ chest. 

“Yes. I was glad Ironhide came,” Optimus replied, smiling warmly. 

Jazz resumed mouthing and kissing, optics dimming. 

Ironhide had helped Optimus with his card hands all evening, making sure he knew how to properly play. Thing was, Jazz had planned on teaching Optimus to play. He’d wanted the evening to be a bonding moment for them. 

Moving, Jazz straddled Optimus’ hips and placed both hands on his chest, smiling at him. “You and him seem to get along pretty well.”

Optimus reached up, thumb sweeping under one of Jazz’s exposed optics. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured distractedly. “And yes, Ironhide is my first real friend,” he added, looking extremely happy to tell Jazz about it. 

Jazz was a master at hiding his feelings, and smiled back. But inside, he felt the sharp burn of jealousy. He and his Prowl had been close friends before it turned into more. It bothered him that Optimus didn’t see him that way. 

“I’m your friend, too,” Jazz replied, turning his head to kiss Optimus’ fingers that were touching his face. “Right?”

A flicker of confusion across Optimus’ face told Jazz in an instant that hadn’t occurred to him. 

“Of course,” Optimus replied. He then reached up, pulling Jazz to lay over top of him. “I need you.”

Pressed close, Jazz buried his face in the crook of Optimus’ neck and allowed himself to frown. Would he ever love again the way he’d loved Prowl? He deeply cared for Optimus but this didn’t feel the same. Was what they had together going to be enough? 

He kissed Optimus’ throat. “Need you, too, Big Guy.” 


	6. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be too upset with this update...

3 weeks later:

Ironhide had gotten used to recharging on the sofa, letting Prowl have the berth. After all they’d been through, being alone in separate quarters was a hurdle neither one seemed ready to tackle. 

He was about to slip offline when he felt Prowl crawl over top of him. He dimly lit his optics, and put his hands on Prowl’s hips. “Hey you.”

“In the mood?” Prowl asked. 

“When have I ever not been?” Ironhide replied with a half-smile. 

Prowl gyrated his hips, rubbing their array covers. “I appreciate you indulging me.”

“Like I’m gonna turn down a sexy Praxian?” Ironhide replied, chuckling.

This had also become part of their new normal as they tried to acclimate to this other world they called home now. Prowl would come to him when he was in need of comfort, and Ironhide didn’t mind offering it to him however he wanted it. 

Prowl leaned down and mouthed Ironhide’s neck. In return, Ironhide massaged the bases of Prowl’s doorwings, earning him a soft whine. It was much more fun interfacing with Prowl in one piece now. 

“Open for me,” Prowl said, voice thin with desire. 

Ironhide did just that, array cover snapping back. Prowl reached between them and grasped his spike, rubbing it just the right way to make Ironhide dizzy with lust. He groaned, and squeezed Prowl’s aft tightly with one hand. 

Prowl smiled and his own array opened. “Touch me.”

“You’re the boss,” Ironhide replied with a chuckle.

He sank his finger into Prowl’s valve. It was already slick and hot to the touch. He pumped one, then two fingers in and out. They pleasured each other for a few long, lovely moments. Then Prowl shifted his hips away from Ironhide’s fingers. Taking the cue, he withdrew them, and placed both hands on his hips again. 

Prowl lifted Ironhide’s spike at an angle, then sank down over top with a lovely moan. Ironhide drank in the view of Prowl as he sat up and ran his hands down Ironhide’s chest and abdomen. Hands pressed to Ironhide’s lower body to steady himself, Prowl started to ride his spike, rising and falling over and over. 

Ironhide groaned, grasping at the edges of the sofa. Tonight Prowl wanted complete control, and he was perfectly fine with that. In the dark room, their optics’ light outlined the edges of their bodies. Ironhide watched the silhouette of doorwings bouncing each time Prowl sank down. Whimpers fell from Prowl’s open mouth. Ironhide felt spike swell and throb in response.

“Primus,” Ironhide said, voice husky and low. 

Prowl smiled at that, then picked up his pace. Ironhide was going to overload, and he shivered. He suddenly let go of the couch and placed his hands back on Prowl’s hips, letting himself feel the rolling motion of Prowl’s body. 

“I can’t… gonna…” Ironhide lifted his hips, and grasped Prowl at the waist, pulling him down over his spike and not letting him go. He flooded the velvety heat of Prowl’s valve, roaring as pleasure blotted out all else. 

Prowl chuckled. “You couldn’t wait for me, hm?” he teased. 

“You know I can’t last when you’re on top. Frag, Prowl…” Ironhide let go, and dimly re-lit his optics to look up at him.

Prowl laughed a little as resumed riding his spike. He gyrated his hips, making a mess, and not caring. Ironhide moaned, his spike responding despite having just overloaded. Prowl got that cute, focused expression on his face as he sped up again, then he stiffened, doorwings flaring out as he cried out with his own overload. The tight squeeze of his valve, drew another shallow overload from Ironhide. 

Once the moment of pleasure passed, Prowl crawled forward and sprawled across Ironhide, humming his satisfaction. “I do enjoy this…”

“Me, too,” Ironhide replied, rubbing Prowl’s lower back. 

They lay together in the darkened room in silence for several minutes. Ironhide gently pet Prowl, and let himself enjoy being physically close to him since it happened a lot less these days. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” Prowl said, breaking the silence. 

“I got no problem being taken advantage of,” Ironhide said, chuckling.

After a moment, Prowl pushed himself up to look Ironhide in the face. “You deserve better than this.”

“I really don’t mind. But, are you ever gonna talk to Jazz ‘bout how you feel?” Ironhide asked.

“I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. I don’t want to destroy what he shares with Optimus,” Prowl replied. 

Ironhide bit at his lip a moment, unsure if he should really say more, since he had a deeper insight into Optimus’ and Jazz’s dynamic. “You can’t destroy it, if it’s strong enough to begin with, right?”

Prowl softly sighed. “Perhaps I’m scared that I will be the one rejected in the end.”

Ironhide sadly smiled. “He’d be an idiot to reject you. And even if he did, I’m not that bad of a second choice, am I?”

“You’re far too good for me,” Prowl replied, smiling. He then kissed Ironhide sweetly. “Would you like to clean up and recharge in the berth with me?”

When it came to Prowl, Ironhide was weak. “Sounds like a plan.”

…

“I appreciate your willingness to come here,” Optimus said, crouched down to be at optic level with their cassette visitors from Cybertron.

“A chance to meet  _ the _ Soundwave? After everything Blaster’s told me about him, and the fact he came to the Autobots for help?! I had to come see for myself,” Rosanna replied. 

Glit huffed, looking at her. 

“I know. Deceptions can change,” Rosanna said, throwing her arms around Glit’s neck and hugging him. 

Optimus smiled behind his mask. “I’ll let First Aid fill you in. Let me know if you need anything, though.”

“Of course!” Rosanna looked up at First Aid. “Alright. Let’s go see him.”

First Aid appeared hesitant but he nodded. “Follow me. I have him in suite in the back. Because of his suicide attempt, he’s currently cuffed to the berth.”

Rosanna and Glit exchanged looks. “That sounds… harsh?” Rosanna replied, looking back up at First Aid. 

“He won’t talk to me. I don’t know why he tried to kill himself. And I can’t help him unless I know what happened,” First Aid replied. He touched the keypad and the door opened. 

Rosanna walked right in with Glit behind her. She used a chair to help her get up onto the berth. Glit followed. They stood together at the foot of the berth. “Hi. I’m Rosanna. This is Glit.”

Soundwave had his visor and mask on, hiding his facial reaction, but the monitors jumped, exposing his anxiety. 

“Silent type, huh?” Rosanna asked. She walked along the edge of the berth and then sat on Soundwave’s middle. “I used to be one of Blaster’s cassettes. Glit used to be a Deception. But he’s not now. Are  _ you _ ? Still a Deception?”

Soundwave shook his head ‘no’.

“First Aid said you won’t tell him what happened. Was that because you hurt your cassettes?” She asked.

“No,” Soundwave replied.

“Someone else hurt them?”

“Yes and no.”

Rosanna’s friendly demeanor flipped instantly to serious. “Are they dead?”

Soundwave shifted his body slightly, the monitors showing his anxiety rising again. “One.”

“You didn’t kill them, though?” Rosanna asked, genuinely concerned.

“He tried to protect me,” Soundwave replied, his monotone voice becoming static-filled. 

Glit walked forward, and sat next to Soundwave’s chest, optics sharply focused on him. 

“Which one?” She asked.

“Rav-vage,” Soundwave replied, voice skipping. 

“The others?” Rosanna asked, aware he’d had several.

“Attacked me,” he replied.

Rosanna exchanged looks with Glit. “Your cassettes attacked you? On orders?”

“Yes. Galvatron ordered them to punish me,” Soundwave admitted, his whole frame was shaking as he tried to hold in his emotions.

“So, he ordered your own cassettes to hurt you, but Ravage refused and died?” She summed up. 

Soundwave nodded. 

Rosanna put a hand on Soundwave’s chest, and Glit put a paw over her hand. “That’s a betrayal. Your cassettes betrayed you.”

Soundwave pulled on his cuffs, monitors jumping wildly.

“I’m sorry. That’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” Rosanna said, trying to soothe him. “But you’re here now. And me and Glit are here.”

Soundwave simply looked at her. It was clear he was crying, but his visor and mask hid his face.

She turned to look at First Aid, standing in the doorway. “I’m willing to pair with Soundwave.” She looked back at Soundwave. “I won’t ever betray you. You have my promise.”

Glit made an agreeable sound.

“I am not worthy of such an offer,”  Soundwave replied, voice thick with static. “I failed as a carrier.” 

“If Ravage was willing to die to protect you, then I think you’re worthy of a second chance,” Rosanna replied with conviction in her voice. “I get that it won’t be all better instantly if we pair with you. My only rule is: you have to try. Try to give us a chance and see what happens.”

Soundwave stared at her, then looked at Glit. After a long moment, he nodded.

“Good!” She turned to face First Aid. “Okay, doc. Let’s pair our signals to his subspace.”

First Aid entered the room, surprised Soundwave had consented. He was equally surprised Rosanna and Glit wanted to after seeing the state Soundwave was in.

“You’re sure about this?” First Aid asked.

“So long as he’s paired to us, he won’t try to kill himself. Right?” She said, looking at Soundwave. 

“I will not,” Soundwave replied. 

First Aid knew very little about the dynamics between carriers and cassettes, but all those involved had consented. “All right. Let’s pair the signals.”

…

Jazz didn’t feel like himself. Honestly, he hadn’t felt like himself since his Prowl’s death. But lately it was harder to act like he was fine, and his time with Optimus left him feeling confused and jealous of Ironhide. Optimus talked about him constantly now.

Sitting in his office, Jazz stared at a datapad of intell on the Constructicons. They’d been making their way across the North American continent stealing metal. They were probably building something dangerous as per their usual MO.

Jazz shoved the pad away, and leaned back in his chair, frowning. He offlined his optics, and tried to clear his head of all the negative thoughts weighing on him.

“Jazz?”

It was a jolt every fragging time. He re-lit his optics, focusing on Prowl in the doorway. “Sup, Prowl?” He didn’t bother plastering on a smile. 

Prowl canted his head slightly. “I was hoping to chat with you about the recent reports of a set of vehicles causing damages in a large city.”

“Stunticons. Awesome,” Jazz replied sarcastically.

Prowl lowered his arm holding the datapad. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jazz replied. “No complaints.”

Prowl frowned at that, stepped into the office, and hit the controls to shut the door. 

Jazz’s spark started pulsing faster and he sat up. “What’s with closing the door?”

“You’re obviously upset. I’ve seen that despite being friendly with many on this base, you don’t appear close to anyone,” Prowl replied. “At least, none seem to be friends you talk to.”

“Yeah, I don’t talk to anyone,” Jazz replied, shrugging. “Nothing new.”

Prowl let his doorwings lower slightly. “You talked to your version of me, didn’t you? Took off that ridiculous mask you call a smile around him?”

Jazz frowned, feeling a rise of anger. “You don’t get to talk about my Prowl.”

Prowl looked annoyed in return. “You’re in a relationship with Optimus. Do you not talk to him?”

Jazz stood up. “I think you should go.”

Prowl stalked forward, slammed the datapad on Jazz’s desk. “You are just as infuriating as my Jazz was. And I see through you. Keep bottling up what’s bothering you and it  _ will _ destroy you.”

“I’m already destroyed!” Jazz yelled. “You don’t know me. So frag off with your whole, ‘I see you,’ slag!”

“We are both broken. We are both pretending we’re not. I don’t want to fight with you. I simply wanted to give you a friendly audio. But you’re too much of a stubborn aft to ask for or accept help,” Prowl sternly replied. He turned on his heels and headed for the door. 

“I don’t love Optimus,” Jazz suddenly blurted out. 

Prowl stopped near the door and turned partway to look at Jazz. “What?”

“I don’t love him. I don’t think I even can. I’ve tried. And everythin’ feels off and wrong. I’m tired. Tired of pretendin’ my spark doesn’t jump every time I hear your voice. It shouldn’t! You  _ aren’t _ him!” Jazz felt his whole frame shaking. He was a lot more upset than he’d even realized. 

“I am not him,” Prowl echoed. He turned and approached Jazz, rounding the desk. “And you are not my Jazz.”

“Is it the same for you?” Jazz asked, body trembling with barely contained emotional turmoil. 

“Yes. I can’t look away from you. Your voice makes my spark pulse faster,” Prowl admitted. 

Jazz faced Prowl. “Why? Of all the mechs, it had to be  _ you _ ? I was fine with bein’ a shell of myself. Then you show up and everything got turned on its head.”

“I was startled to see you when we arrived. I’d moved on. I thought I had, anyway,” Prowl replied. 

“You don’t love Ironhide?” Jazz asked. 

“That’s hard to answer clearly. Part of me does. But it doesn’t feel like it did with my Jazz. I don’t know if it’s possible to feel that way again,” Prowl explained, doorwings lowering. 

Jazz felt his ire fading and he half-smiled. “You don’t do that around anyone else.”

“Do what?” Prowl asked.

“Move your doorwings,” Jazz pointed out. “It all feels so familiar doesn’t it? Being ‘round each other? Or is that just me?”

“It’s not just you,” Prowl replied. 

They stared at each other. 

Prowl reached out, fingers gently brushing Jazz’s cheek. Jazz knew he should rear back. Stop what he felt coming, but he stood there, nearly in tears from the barest touch from Prowl. 

Leaning in, Prowl kissed Jazz. 

Jazz should shove Prowl away. Tell him to stop. Instead he grasped Prowl’s waist, and returned the kiss. Their lips parted, glossa entwining between linked mouths. This mech tasted the same. Smelled the same up close. His energy field felt so familiar. 

The tension was broken. There was no stopping this. Jazz gave in. He shoved the datapads off his desk, and sat. Prowl pushed his legs apart and touched his array cover as they continued to deeply kiss. Every touch made his sensory net light up with desire. It prickled across his plating, and his array cover snapped open. 

Reaching for Prowl’s doorwings, Jazz drummed his fingers along the underside. Prowl broke their kiss with a gasp. Jazz quickly locked their lips together again, though. 

The sound of Prowl’s array opening made Jazz’s valve ripple in anticipation. Prowl rubbed the leading edge of platelets with the head of his spike, and broke their kiss. “Is this what you want?”

“Little late to be checkin’” Jazz replied with a half-smile. “You better not leave me hangin’.”

With that, Prowl slid his spike in. They both moaned. Jazz grasped Prowl’s aft, encouraging him deeper. 

It felt incredible. Their bodies moved together. Their hands and mouths knowing exactly where to go. Exactly how to touch. Not his Prowl, but he  _ felt _ just like him. Jazz’s valve fluttered around the perfect shape of his lovely spike. Heat radiated through his array as pleasure overtook his senses. 

“Jazz…” Prowl thrust deep, groaning. 

Jazz shivered, on the edge of overload. “ _ Prowl _ .”

Their grip on each other grew tighter, and Jazz reached his pique, overloading harder than he had in Earth years. Prowl cried out, pressing to the hilt and joining him with his own overload. 

They stilled, arms wrapped around each other as they both panted softly, expelling excess heat. 

Jazz pressed his face into Prowl’s shoulder. “Primus,” he whispered. 

“Indeed,” Prowl quietly replied. 

Silence filled the space around them. Jazz wasn’t sure how to reconcile that logically this was wrong when it felt so right in his spark. He drank in Prowl’s scent and warmth, not wanting this moment to end. 

Prowl kissed one of his horn helms, sending a fresh prickly wave over his sensory net. 

“I would say we are attracted to one another,” Prowl said, breaking the long silence.

Jazz hugged himself to Prowl tighter. “This is  _ way _ more than attraction.”

Prowl nodded, gently rubbing Jazz’s lower back. Exactly how his Prowl used to do when comforting him. “I believe it is also more complicated.”

“Way more complicated.” Jazz finally lifted his head, looking Prowl in the optics. “But I feel more complete right now than I have since… you know.”

“I feel the same.” Prowl nodded. “What do we do about this?”

“You frag me on my desk some more?” Jazz half-smiled, squeezing his valve, which made Prowl sharply gasp. 

“I’m happy to, but you know that’s not what I meant,” Prowl replied, moving his hips slightly.

“I tell Optimus I don’t love him,” Jazz replied, his smile fading away. 

Prowl cupped Jazz’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “And after that, I’d very much like to pursue a relationship with you.”

Jazz smiled at that. “I think I need you frag me a little more. Just to be sure that’s what I want, too.”

Prowl chuckled. “I do want you to be sure.”

Primus help him, Prowl’s laugh was exactly the same.

They kissed again. 

What a mess this all was. Jazz didn’t feel broken anymore, but he was not looking forward to breaking Optimus’ spark.


	7. Fight or Flight

“You have to know, I didn’t wanna hurt you. Not ever,” Jazz said. 

He’d just told Optimus about what happened between him and Prowl. He’d made sure to have this talk in Optimus’ quarters so they’d have privacy.

Optimus sat beside him on the couch, staring at his folded hands on his lap, not answering. Jazz had expected an angry, hurt response, not an eerie silence. 

“Optimus?”

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” Optimus finally replied. He sounded distant, detached. “I’m not surprised by this, either. I had hoped I could be enough.” He finally looked at Jazz. “But I’m not.”

Jazz’s spark sank. He’d been Optimus’ first relationship and he’d likely scarred him emotionally because of his selfishness. “You’re amazing. Kind, sweet, warm.”

Optimus looked back at his hands, optics glossy with held back tears. “But not enough.”

“It’s not like that. You’re perfect for someone, just, it’s not me. That doesn’t mean there isn’t someone for you,” Jazz replied. 

“If it’s alright, I’d like to be alone,” Optimus replied, sounding weirdly calm.

“Yeah, sure. Of course. But, I hope we can mend our friendship. When you’re ready,” Jazz replied.

Optimus nodded.

Hesitantly, Jazz stood. He leaned over, kissing Optimus’ helm crest, then left him alone in his quarters. 

Jazz’s whole body felt weighed down with guilt. He had no idea if his feelings for Prowl were real or if he was simply reliving memories. And he’d just let down a sweet mech who’d put his trust in Jazz. Primus, he hoped he’d not made a huge mistake.

…

“For the time being, you’ll be housed in these quarters,” Ironhide said, opening the door for Soundwave, Rosanna and Glit. 

“My movements are restricted to this space?” Soundwave asked. 

“Well, personally I’d lock you down, but Optimus wants you integratin’ into the crew. You leave that little tracker ‘Aid put on your leg alone, and you’re free to wander the base,” Ironhide replied. 

Rosanna opened her mask to frowned at Ironhide. “Don’t have to be so rude!” She stuck her glossa out at him. “Come on, Sounders.” He grabbed his hand, pulling him into the room. Glit trotted in behind them. 

Ironhide sighed and shook his head. “You got an appointment to see Jazz for a personnel assignment tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“I will be prompt,” Soundwave replied. 

“Better be.” With that, Ironhide left. 

“What a bossy bot.” Rosanna said, clearly annoyed. She then noticed a large bay window and ran over to it. “Wow, you can see the whole planet from here.”

Soundwave pressed the controls to shut the door, then moved to sit on the couch. His body still ached from healing wounds, and his spark chamber damage was especially uncomfortable. 

Glit hopped up next to Soundwave on the couch. ‘It hurts? Your chest?’ He silently asked through their new connection.

“Yes. It will pass,” Soundwave replied. 

“Glit, always a worrier,” Rosanna gently teased. She then joined them on the couch, sitting on Soundwave’s other side. “Sucks you're in pain. Didn’t that cute medic give you a portable pain dampener?” 

“My pain is my penance,” Soundwave replied. 

Rosanna frowned. “We gotta work on your self-esteem.” She held out her hand. “You put in subspace, right? Hand it over.”

Soundwave looked at her. She was quite “bossy” herself, but in a charming sort of way. Soundwave wondered why she had unpaired with Blaster. He took out the dampener and gave it to her. 

Most had no idea that in a carrier and cassette relationship, the cassettes had the power. A carrier looked after them, protected them if they needed it, and deferred to them always. It was not something spoken about. The illusion of a carrier being large and in control was just that; an illusion to fool others. 

Rosanna stood on the couch and placed the dampener on Soundwave’s chest, turning it on. “Better?”

Soundwave nodded, feeling the relief immediately. His promise to her “to try” was not just a promise. It was an oath he would honor. 

“Why did you unpair from Blaster?” Soundwave asked. 

Rosanna looked surprised by his question. “Wow. You don’t miss much.” She smiled. “Short answer: I wanted to become Cybertron’s first famous cassette class singer!” She posed as if holding a microphone, then laughed. “Slightly longer answer: I don’t like sharing the spotlight and Blaster wouldn’t let me perform alone.” 

Glit settled in next to Soundwave. ‘She is very good.’

Soundwave was intrigued. “I would like to hear you sing.”

She grinned. “You will. But I can tell you're tired. Should probably get some rest.”

He let his mask retract, shyly smiling. “Rest would be beneficial.”

Soundwave didn’t understand why Rosanna and Glit we’re giving him this chance, but it was giving him a sliver of hope to hang onto. He missed Ravage with a deep ache and a terrible regret for failing him. The fact the others had turned on him also hurt. But thinking about it was too much right now. He shut down the lines of thoughts and leaned back against the couch. 

Rosanna curled up next to him. “Rest up,” she said in a softened voice. “You’re not alone now.”

…

Ironhide glanced at the roof door. It wasn’t like Optimus to not come up and visit. In fact, they’d met up here every day for weeks now at the same time without fail. Maybe there’d been an emergency?

Sighing, Ironhide couldn’t help but worry. Especially after what Prowl told him the night before about ‘facing in Jazz’s office. He figured Optimus would need someone to talk to. Primus knew he certainly did. 

Concern getting the better of him, Ironhide headed back inside to find his missing friend. 

Approaching Optimus’ office door it was closed, which was unusual, he always left it open. Ironhide pressed the buzzer and waited. No answer. 

Weird, but maybe he was upset and in his quarters? Ironhide went to a terminal for Teletraan at the end of the corridor. “Teletraan, location of Optimus Prime on base, please.”

“Optimus Prime is not on base,” Teletraan answered. 

“What the frag?” Ironhide scowled. “Teletraan, locate Optimus Prime  _ off _ base.”

Teletraan’s screen flipped through several images from all the cameras it had access to, while in the corner of the screen satellite images scrolled while searching. Suddenly the satellite image enlarged, and showed a densely wooded area. “Optimus Prime is in the Elliot State forest.”

“Teletraan, why is he there?” Ironhide asked, getting a bad feeling in his gut. 

“Purpose unknown. Related information: Deception activity reported by Aerialbots four hours ago in the same area,” Teletraan replied. 

“He didn’t…” Ironhide felt the energon in his lines run cold. “Teletraan, which Deceptions ?” 

“Constructicon activity: stealing lumber for unknown purpose.”

Ironhide turned and booked it toward the base entrance. He pinged Prowl with a message. ‘I think Optimus did something stupid. I’m going to investigate. Stand by.’

‘Care to elaborate?’ Prowl responded. 

‘Let me confirm before freaking everyone out. Just, be on standby,’ Ironhide replied. He transformed and sped off toward the area Teletraan identified.

…

Optimus turned his head to look down his arm. He was on the ground, on his back. His hand looked so far away. He couldn’t move his lower body at all. Maybe this time he’d be free and not have to come back.

Losing Jazz meant losing his desire to stay in this world. He was not supposed to be here anyway. He was a Prime in name only. He should be in the well of sparks at peace. That’s all he wanted now. 

He’d not been thinking clearly when he left the base, but dying hadn’t been his plan. He wanted to fight and not hold back; try to get all his anger and hurt out while stopping the Constructicons from harvesting resources. Had he thought it through, he would have seen the danger in his rash decision. He was no match for Devestator. 

He could see the glow of energon leaking from under his broken frame slowly growing bigger. Staring at his hand, he tried to disconnect. Fight to be free of this wretched frame once and for all. But it was useless. System errors told him a shut down was imminent as his visual cortex failed. 

In the distance he heard his name called. “Optimus!” 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even light his optics, every ounce of energy was draining from his body in a pool of warm energon. Whose voice was that? Jazz?

“Holy Primus! Optimus!”

No. It was Ironhide. He’d come looking for him? 

“Optimus, you stupid idiot!” 

He felt Ironhide take hold of his hand. 

“Don’t you dare ditch me,” Ironhide said. Optimus couldn’t see him but he could tell Ironhide had leaned over him to speak into his audio. “Not after what they did. I said I was okay with it, but I’m not. And obviously neither are you. But it ain’t worth throwing your life away over.”

Was he throwing it away? Was Ironhide right? 

“Please Optimus. Stay. For me… I know how selfish that is, but I don’t want you to go...” 

Stay for Ironhide? His one and only real friend? He wanted to reply. Tell Ironhide he was sorry he’d let him down, too. He focused hard on that hand again, the one Ironhide was holding. Instead of disconnecting, he fought to control it and squeezed Ironhide’s hand back.  _ I’m sorry _ … he thought.

Another set of errors registered and the world slipped away as he lost consciousness.

…

Ironhide sat at Optimus’ medbay berthside, holding his hand, waiting for him to squeeze it again. 

The prognosis wasn’t great. First Aid repaired most of the larger damage, but Optimus had been energon deprived by the time the medic was able to treat him. The systems that seized were slowly coming back online as Optimus healed. First Aid carefully monitored, and had him on energon drip laced with nanites for supplementing his auto repair system. 

When Ironhide asked how long until Optimus would wake, First Aid couldn’t tell him. Afterall, this frame had died once already. It wasn’t as resilient as it once had been.

“Maybe I should go find you one those creepy Quintessons to get you fixed up,” Ironhide said with a soft sigh. 

A light knock on the door drew Ironhide’s attention. 

“Any change?” Prowl asked. 

Ironhide sadly smiled at his friend. “‘Aid said his electrical system is back online. He undid some wires this mornin’.” He looked back at Optimus and frowned. “But no sign of wakin’ up.”

“We have a senior staff meeting. I came to fetch you. Jazz would like to keep Ultra Magnus from hopping a shuttle for Earth,” Prowl said, optics on Optimus. 

Ironhide looked at Prowl. “And I care what Jazz wants, why?”

“Hide…”

“Trust me, you don’t want me in the meetin’. I’m all for Magnus steppin’ in,” Ironhide replied. 

Prowl sadly frowned. “Personal feelings shouldn’t interfere with our jobs.”

“Then you  _ definitely _ don’t want me there,” Ironhide replied. 

Neither said anything for a long, drawn out moment. 

“Are you angry with me, too?” Prowl asked, voice smaller and full of worry. 

“You didn’t lie to me. I’m not mad at you,” Ironhide replied. 

“But you’re upset,” Prowl said, trying to understand. 

“Yeah, I’m upset! Optimus is the first friend I made here. It ain’t fair. Jazz shouldn’t have led him on, then maybe he wouldn’t have done such an idiotic thing,” Ironhide replied. “Optimus deserves someone that’ll  _ really _ care ‘bout him.”

Prowl canted his head slightly. “Someone like you?”

Ironhide’s optics brightened as he looked at Prowl. “No… I didn’t mean--” He looked back at Optimus’ serene face, suddenly rethinking all their interactions. He did enjoy making Optimus laugh, and talking to him for hours about the novels they both enjoyed. That was just friend stuff, wasn’t it? But he admittedly liked seeing Jazz jealous of them getting along so well. Frag...maybe it wasn’t just friend stuff. “Fraggit, Prowl… why did you have to say that?”

“I’ve gotten to know you very well and I've  _ never _ seen you like this. It’s the only explanation I can think of,” Prowl replied. He moved closer to Ironhide and put a hand on his shoulder. “I will recommend Ultra Magnus come to Earth to help run things until Optimus is back on his feet.”

“You said Jazz doesn’t want him here, though,” Ironhide replied. 

“He doesn’t. But it’s the best course of action considering the influx of Deception gestalts that are now here. If Jazz thinks I’ll side with him just because we are now exploring a potential relationship, he will be disappointed.” Prowl gently squeezed Ironhide’s shoulder. “No matter what’s happened, I’m always your friend. Don’t forget that.”

Ironhide put his free hand over the one Prowl hand on his shoulder. “I won’t.”

…

“Magnus is making me crazy,” Jazz complained as he flopped on his sofa front first. 

Prowl stood politely in the middle of his living area, looking at the various items Jazz had put up on the walls and shelves. 

Jazz rolled to his side and propped his head on a hand, watching this other Prowl. This was the first time he’d had him over. It felt… strange. 

He and  _ his _ Prowl used to live here together. His Prowl would complain about the mess Jazz always generated, while neatening up and making order out of his chaos. The living area used to be more “Prowl” like, with everything in its place. But over the last few years, Jazz had let it become messy again. 

“Is this him?” Prowl asked, pointedly not replying about Magnus, while looking at a holoframe. 

“Yup. That’s us on a trip to Zircon. We were on a mission for supplies, but slipped in a side trip,” Jazz replied. He shifted and sat on the sofa properly. 

“We look different,” Prowl replied, optics fixated on the image. 

“Yeah, in little ways. You’re not quite as soft-curved. And your spike is modded,” Jazz replied, half-smiling. “You taste and smell the same, though.”

Prowl looked at Jazz. “You look different as well. Less armorment.” He walked over and sat beside Jazz on the sofa. “Same scent and taste as well.”

“Did he have funny optics like mine?” Jazz asked, removing his visor and squinting at Prowl. 

“No. They are unique to you. And quite beautiful,” Prowl replied. 

Jazz’s face heated at the compliment, as he put his visor back on. “This is weird, huh?”

Prowl’s doorwings twitched, and he unconsciously touched the piece of spark chamber on his chest. “Yes, it is. But this is what we want, isn’t it? To see where this goes?”

Nodding, Jazz reached over, pressing his fingers over Prowl’s touching the chamber scrap metal. “You touch his chamber a lot.”

“When I’m around you, it brings back a lot of memories,” Prowl admitted. 

“Same for me.” Jazz’s smile faded to a sad look. “How do we deal with it? The relivin’ memories? I mean, I want to know  _ you _ . You know what I mean?”

“Perhaps in time as we create our own memories it’ll change,” Prowl replied.

It was a logical thing to think, but Jazz knew this was anything but logical. It was emotional and irrational. And their pasts needed to be shared to understand one another. Problem was, old memories were still painful to think about. Jazz did wonder if they’d ever overcome their pasts. It seemed impossible right now.

For Jazz, he’d chosen this path, though. He was going to see it through as best he could.

He leaned in, and kissed Prowl. 

Prowl returned the kiss, and soon their mouths were linked, glossae entwined. Their hands stroked and touched each other in all the right ways. 

Breaking the kiss, Jazz looked into Prowl’s optics. “Berthroom?”

“Yes.” Prowl replied, optics burning with desire. 

Jazz led the way, and laid back on the berth. Prowl crawled over top of him, and they resumed kissing and groping each other’s plating. 

Parting his legs, Jazz wrapped his thighs around Prowl’s hips. 

“You want me to spike again?” Prowl asked, pausing their kissing to look at Jazz.

“I’m up for whatever. Honestly, it’s been a klik since I spiked. If you don’t mind me fumblin’ a bit, I could certainly give it a go,” Jazz replied. 

“How about I do this?” Prowl moved, straddling Jazz’s hips and gyrating so their closed covers rubbed together.

“Wanna go for a ride, huh?” Jazz asked. 

Prowl nodded and smiled. This Prowl was very pretty. He would never say it out loud, but Jazz thought he was prettier than his Prowl had been. 

After opening his array, Jazz groaned when Prowl massaged his spike. The size difference was a turn off for Jazz when he’d briefly considered spiking Optimus, plus they’d never experimented when it came to interfacing. Always the same way, always to just get off. So when Prowl moved Jazz’s hand between his legs so they’d mutually pleasure one another, he felt his desire jump more than it had in years. 

Sinking his fingers into Prowl’s valve, his spike grew even harder in anticipation. Jazz had almost forgotten that interfacing could be about passion as much as overloading. 

Prowl gently pushed Jazz’s hand away, then shifted, guiding Jazz’s spike into the velvety heat of his valve. 

Jazz quickly grasped Prowl’s hips to still him. “You gotta give me a sec. Don’t move, yet, ‘kay?” He said, spike throbbing on the edge of overloading before they’d gotten started.

“It’s been a  _ very _ long time since you spiked, then?” Prowl asked, half-smiling. 

“Yeah,” Jazz admitted, taking long deep intakes of air to calm his body. “It's not just that, though.”

Prowl let his fingers trail over Jazz’s bumper and headlights as he waited. “What else is it?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“You’re you. You’re also gorgeous, and it’s been a long time since interfacing was about more than gettin’ off.” Jazz finally loosened his grasp. “I’m not gonna last long.”

Rolling his hips slowly, Prowl nodded. “Me neither,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss Jazz. 

Jazz reached around to massage Prowl’s doorwings where they were attached to his back. Prowl moaned and then laid over top of Jazz, rocking his hips as best he could from his new position. 

Planting his feet on the berth, Jazz began to meet Prowl’s motions, thrusting deep into the welcoming heat of his valve. They began to kiss again, moaning between long kisses. 

Primus help him, Jazz felt more alive than he had in so long. His array tingled and he did his best to hold back. 

Prowl grasped at Jazz’s shoulders, and broke their kiss to sharply gasp. His whole frame shuddered while his valve tightened as he overloaded. Jazz’s thrust deep and hard, quickly joining Prowl as he cried out and flooded his squeezing valve wrapped around his spike. 

As the moment of shared pleasure passed, Prowl relaxed over top of Jazz, panting softly to cool his systems. 

“I forgot,” Jazz murmured, letting his arms fall down to his sides on the berth.

“Forgot?” Prowl prompted. “What exactly?”

“How good it feels to spike. And, Primus, your valve is  _ perfect _ ,” Jazz replied. 

Prowl smiled at that. He nuzzled Jazz’s cheek, which made his spark pulse faster. Jazz lifted his arms up and hugged Prowl. It felt so right to hold him. But was it? It wasn’t  _ his _ Prowl. So why did it feel so good? 

Jazz really wished he didn’t feel so confused and unsure of his own feelings. In time, it would get easier, or so he hoped. 


End file.
